Wonder
by just.keep.swimming.slowly
Summary: Suppose George Weasley meets a girl, and suppose that girl shows up out of the blue, and suppose she turns his entire world upside down the moment they meet. What would happen? They're in this together. For better or for worse... Set during PoA and on. [REWRITE OF INTERLUDE]
1. To Be Really Free

Chapter 1:_ To Be Really Free_

**A/N: No, I don't own Harry Potter. Sadly.**

**Oh well.**

_Why we can't be  
or see who cuts us asunder  
like a boor felling a tree_

_Wonder _by_ Soap&amp;Skin_

* * *

_George_

Surprise is an emotion I don't normally find myself faced with. Living with a twin like Fred, and siblings like the ones I had, you become somewhat desensitized to most things that would be normally surprising.

You can imagine my surprise, then, when I heard that Professor Dumbledore had called for a school wide meeting in the middle of September.

"Wonder what Dumbledore wants us for." Said Lee Jordan as he, Fred, and I approached the Great Hall. I shrugged and grinned at Fred.

"Weird, don't you think? We haven't had a school meeting since it was our first year and McGonagall was trying to figure out who'd been leaving all that catnip in her desk," I said with a smirk.

Of course it had been me and Fred.

Lee suddenly looked a little apprehensive.

"You don't think this is about all the dungbombs I bribed Peeves with, do you?"

"One way to find out," Fred said. He gestured to the doors in front of him, and we slipped into the great hall quietly. We were obviously the last ones in, as the doors closed behind us with an ominous thud. I sat between Fred and Lee, nodding at Oliver Wood across from me.

Suddenly, the room quieted down into a hushed murmur, and then into pure silence when everyone turned their attention to Dumbledore at his place at the podium. I found my mind wavering as Dumbledore said some opening words before the start of our meal, going to the events of the past summer.

The usually cheery halls of Hogwarts had been slowly drifting deeper and deeper into a strange gloom since the escape of Sirius Black; Fred and I had been trying to lighten the mood, although our efforts weren't always appreciated.

Fred nudged me under the table with a grin and a nod at Dumbledore who had once again resumed his spot at the extravagant podium.

"I hope you all have enjoyed your meals tonight," this was met by appreciative claps and noise. Dumbledore waited for it to subside with a patient smile on his face and his hands clasped behind his back, "I'm sure you are wondering why you've been called here tonight, this is indeed the first meeting we've held in quite some time."

He turned his twinkling eyes onto Fred and I and we grinned back.

"However tonight, the subject will be slightly different,"

Lee visibly let out a shaky breath. I rolled my eyes at the back of his dreadlocked head.

"This summer, I began correspondence with Headmistress Walcott of the Goodwin School for the Magical, Headmaster Arnold of Clarke Academy of Magic, Headmistress Harding of Royden University School, and Headmaster Russell at Ann Arbor Institute of Witchcraft and Wizardry. They had all mentioned that it would be a marvelous opportunity for a student of each school to attend Hogwarts for the remainder of the year, as do I. We agreed that a single student from each school would be permitted to join us, and these four students will be arriving in two weeks' time and will be sorted. I expect nothing but courtesy and welcome from everyone here."

Well that was unexpected. I glanced at Fred, and he seemed excited enough about the whole ordeal.

Huh.

"Are there any questions?" A few hands shot in the air and Dumbledore smiled happily.

"Yes, Miss Granger?" he asked.

"Sir, I was wondering, could you give us any more information on the students?"

"Ah, of course," he pulled a small roll of parchment from his pocket and read off of it, "from Goodwin, we have Max Terrell; Ivy Miller from Clarke; Lenore Hedley will be joining us from Royden; and Ross Cannon from Ann Arbor. All of the students are in their fifth year."

Hermione nodded her head and beamed. She looked excited by the prospect of a fresh face, as did many.

"Miss Clearwater?"

"Sir, how is it possible for American students to attend school here? I'm sure the curriculum is vastly different over there,"

"A very good question, yes, there are a few schools that operate on a similar curriculum, and test using the OWL and NEWT programs. Known as International Schools, most of the major European schools, such as Beauxbatons, Durmstrang, as well as Hogwarts itself, are included on this list. The four schools that our exchange students are coming from are the only International Schools in America."

"Will the students be sorted?" called out a voice.

"Yes, although one will go to each of the houses."

A quiet murmuring broke out at this information, but it quickly died down once Dumbledore called on a sixth year in Slytherin. I got lost in my thoughts again and didn't even notice that the meeting had come to a close until a sharp blow to the back of my head shocked me out of it.

I made a rude gesture to Fred, while Lee ran off in front of us to bother Katie Bell. We shambled along with the crowd headed to Gryffindor tower.

"Hope we get someone decent," said Fred with a smirk.

"You just hope that one of the birds is fit." I said.

"Hey! I resent that! One of the blokes could be a good roommate too,"

"Probably be better than Robbins, anyways."

"I'm not sure how we put up with that prat for so long. He's worse than Percy,"

I threw an incredulous look at Fred and snorted, "No one is worse than Percy,"

"Got a point there, Georgie. Although, you have to at least agree that a fresh bird wouldn't be bad."

"Never said it would," I said grinning.

"Let's hope for your sake that one of them is."

I shrugged and stuffed my hands in my pockets. None of the girls at Hogwarts had ever really kept my interest for long, and I had only dated a handful; they'd all lasted for relatively short periods of time. The vast majority of girls were either incredibly boring or far too wrapped up in themselves to be decent conversationalists.

Although we didn't gain our reputation through my meager dating experience. It was Fred that always snuck off to broom closets. Probably doesn't help that we're identical.

"Fortuna Major" I stated once we reached the portrait of the fat lady. She swung forward, revealing the warm reds and golds of the circular common room.

As I lay in my bed half an hour later, I wondered what the new kids were going to be like.

Would Leah (or was it Lisa? Linda?) Whatever, be some stupid bint?

Would Ross (is that right?) be as annoying as ever living hell?

Would Max be one of those people that was just too nice for their own good?

And would Ivy be someone I wasn't likely to forget?

I wonder…

* * *

_Ivy_

This has to be one of the most uncomfortable train rides I have ever been on in my entire life. _Ever_.

Honestly, it's ridiculous how awkward this entire thing is.

When I boarded this painfully red train, I ended up sitting with the other three exchange students. I didn't want to be _that_ girl, you know, the one that doesn't socialize with anyone and reads by herself in a corner.

And now that I'm sitting here with a group of people that couldn't be more different, I seriously wish that I had.

We engaged in small talk for the first 20 minutes, before the boy sitting beside me, Max, dropped to sleep right on my shoulder. And he's snoring. And drooling.

Joy.

The girl, Lenore, looked nice enough at first; then she opened her mouth.

Every time I said something, she always managed to steer the conversation back to herself.

"So what school are you coming from?"

"Royden, it's so great there! Did you know that Witch Weekly ranked it within the top 10 of all magical boarding schools? My entire family's gone there. It's in California, the weather there is so different from here. "

"I'm from Clarke –"

"Oh, my cousin goes to Clarke! Do you know her? Her name's Jessica Hedley. Actually you probably don't, she's in her first year."

"I do know a Jessica Hedley –"

"You do! Oh she's just a sweetheart, isn't she? She always said I was her favorite cousin."

It continued like this for an hour. An _hour_.

Gods, just kill me.

Then there was Ross. He was charming. He was smooth, suave, polite…

He was infuriating to be completely honest. Every word that slid out of his mouth was cheap flattery and manipulative. Although it seemed to work on Lenore. The two were deep in conversation about some petty subject, so I was content to look out the window at the passing countryside; well, as best as I could. Max's head was still resting heavily on my shoulder.

I noticed that the sun had begun its rapid descent; the sky turned pink and was streaked with fabulous shades of light purple and orange.

I placed my finger on Max's temple and shoved him off of me, not all so gracefully, and stood up to stretch. The two others stared up at me in confusion as I pulled out a set of plain black robes and threw them on.

"What are you doing?" asked Lenore.

"I'm putting on my robes," – honestly, what does it look like I'm doing – "we'll be at Hogwarts soon."

"Alright," Lenore stood up and pulled on her robes as well, followed by Ross, who hadn't said a word to me since he'd realized that his 'charms' didn't work on me.

I turned to look at Max, who had yet to wake up, and prodded his ankle with my toe.

He blinked blearily up at me, "Wha?"

"You should put on your robes. We'll be at the school soon."

He nodded and put them on before leaning back against the seat with his eyes shut.

Really?

With a sigh, I sat down as well and rested my head against the cool glass of the window.

I missed my parents. They'd been so happy when they heard that I'd been selected to go to Hogwarts for the year. I had heard about it all my life, through stories from my mom, and from my friends as well. It was always a secret wish of mine to attend the sprawling school, although I had always thought that it would never be a reality. Europe had its own schools, and so did America.

My sister, Annie, had been out of school for two years now, and loved her job at the American Ministry. All of my family works there, my mother as a secretary to the American Minister, my father as an Obliviator, and Annie as an assistant at the Board of Magical Education. Living in New York definitely has its perks. The Ministry's located there, so it wasn't as magically draining for my family to apparate there as it was for someone living on the West Coast. Floo powder is a huge deal in the U.S.

I also missed Maggie. She's been my best friend for longer than I can even remember, and we've been at Clarke together since we were eleven. We're practically sisters, but we look nothing alike. She's athletic and tall and blond. I'm, well, not.

I cry myself to sleep over the fact that I'll probably never be taller than 5'2.

And I'm a brunette too. I always thought that was so boring. Many times, I've thought about dyeing it an interesting color, but whenever I've voiced this desire to Maggie, she talks me out of it. Actually, when I'd gotten it cut a few years ago, she threatened me and told me never to do it again, before taking me straight to my mother and demanding that she charm it back to its regular length.

I think she has an unhealthy obsession with my hair.

It's probably because hers is ramrod straight. Mine just gets curly and frizzy. She yells at me every time I lament my fly-away hair and how it seemed to ignore my desire for perfect ringlets. All I ever got were messy waves and loose curls.

I heard the train squeal to a stop, and the four of us trooped out of the compartment and into the blustery October air.

We were greeted by a severe looking woman with gray streaked hair pulled into a tight bun and emerald robes that swirled around her.

"Cannon, Hedley, Miller, and Terrell?" she asked.

We all nodded at the older witch.

"I am Professor McGonagall. If you will all follow me please."

She led us to a horseless carriage, and we all climbed in. Without warning, it moved on its own, up the steep mountain towards the most striking castle I have ever seen. The picture of Hogwarts in books absolutely did _not _do it justice.

Max and I were the only ones that openly gaped at the glittering lights that were present from what appeared to be windows.

The carriage stopped in front of a manicured courtyard, and we stepped out and made their way to the large double doors. Something bubbled unpleasantly in my stomach. I felt my heart pound erratically in my chest and I twisted my fingers together. A nervous habit I picked up from my sister.

We were lead into an impressive Entrance Hall.

"I will tell them of your arrival. Wait here. I'll be right back." She stepped into the Great Hall and a roar of noise filtered out.

The group stood around awkwardly awaiting the return of the stern woman. Oh shit, we're about to get sorted!

I had heard about the four houses of Hogwarts, but I had no idea where I'd be placed.

Well, it probably wouldn't be Slytherin. I mean, have you met me? I wouldn't last a day with those people. I began to pace a bit. The other three seemed content to just watch my progress back and forth across the waiting room.

"They're ready for you."

I very nearly jumped out of my skin. With a startled shriek, my foot suddenly caught itself on the uneven bit of stone I had been successfully avoiding during my pacing.

I laid a hand on my chest and caught my breath best I could. McGonagall and the rest of the exchange students just stood there. Lenore and Ross with looks of contempt on their faces, and McGonagall and Max with mild amusement.

Well, then.

I let out a shaky laugh and hoisted myself up off the ground.

"Sorry about that, I startle easy sometimes."

McGonagall offered me a small smile and turned away from us to throw open the doors dramatically.

The sea of faces that stared at us was unnerving. Lenore drank up all the attention of course. She tossed her silky, sandy blonde hair and waved her tanned hand in a way she must've thought was endearing – which it wasn't.

I fought the urge to roll my eyes and followed Max up to the front of the room. McGonagall was waiting there with a small piece of parchment and one of the dirtiest hats I have ever seen in my entire life.

Do they expect me to that on? I grimaced, then became aware of the height difference between me and my fellow exchange students.

Great. Even that bitch Lenore is taller than I am.

Why do good things happen to terrible people?

In all my grumbling, I managed to miss when McGonagall had called Ross forward and asked him to put on the hat. I came to just as the brim ripped wide open like a mouth and called out, "SLYTHERIN!"

So that's how it worked.

"Hedley, Lenore,"

She sauntered up to the stool and sat down primly. Her piercing blue eyes roved the hall and caught someone that she proceeded to wink at.

I once again struggled to not roll my eyes. I had a feeling I would be doing a lot of that with her around.

"RAVENCLAW!"

Wait, what? Lenore did not strike me as intelligent. At all.

It was probably all an act, now that I thought about it.

"Miller, Ivy."

Oh god, here we go.

Just put one foot in front of the other and sit down. It's not that hard.

I took a deep breath and sat down on the battered and dirty stool as McGonagall lowered the equally as battered and dirty hat onto my head.

"_Ah, I see, I see. Yes, very interesting indeed. Loyalty and justice; Hufflepuff, perhaps. You would do quite well in Hufflepuff, I can tell." _

Is this hat reading my mind?

"_Indeed I am."_

That is awesome.

"_Oh, wait. There is one trait that does overshadow the rest. I know now that the perfect place for you_ _is in_GRYFFINDOR!"

That's that, then. I guess I'm a Gryffindor.

I approached the table that was cheering the loudest and dressed in red and gold, and searched for a good spot to sit.

My eyes swept the length of it, seeing an empty little stretch of bench in between a girl with curly, strawberry blond hair, and a good looking boy with broad shoulders.

Taking a seat, I offered a smile to the people sitting around me and turned to watch while 'Max the Drooler' got sorted into 'HUFFLEPUFF!' and a strangely dressed old man with a long white beard, who looked like he had stepped straight out of a storybook, move to stand in front of an ornate podium.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," he said warmly, "I am Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, and I hope you four will enjoy your stay with us. We are all so glad that we have the opportunity to host you. So before I let you all starve, I have two fine words to share with you: Tuck in."

I chuckled at these words. Never before has a phrase made me so excited. I glanced at the table with glee and then with apprehension.

What is all of this stuff? The red-headed boy sitting across from me grinned wickedly.

"Need some help there?" he asked with amusement. I looked up at him and smiled. Finally, a person to explain the weird food.

"Yeah, that would be great."

He blinked and stared at me for a moment.

"Need some help there?" I asked him with a smirk. He laughed and shook his head.

"Sorry, your accent startled me for a moment. I forgot that you lot came from across the pond."

"Oh, I guess that would have surprised me too."

"I'm George," he said, "and this is Fred."

The boy sitting next to him looked up from his large plate that was laden with food and winked at me.

Twins.

Lovely.

"I'm Ivy."

"So Ivy, what do you need?" he asked.

"Could you tell me what all this is? I don't recognize any of this food." I said in exasperation.

George grinned at me and nodded. He pointed out the different dishes and explained their content, and I finally felt comfortable enough to try some things. The girl I sat next to turned to me with a squeal, having just realized who I was, and introduced herself.

"I'm Lavender, it's great to meet you." she said with a wide smile, "Do you wear make-up? I've always wondered what kind of makeup they have in America. I feel like I've tried every brand on earth."

I smiled, "My aunt Jo actually works for an American make-up brand, Maybelline. Maybe you've heard of it? She sends me samples sometimes,"

"Oh wow! That's brilliant! Parvati, listen to this, her aunt works for a make-up company,"

An Indian girl with her hair in a long, dark plait gasped. I furrowed my brow. It really wasn't that interesting…

"Is she a muggle or something?" asked Lavender.

"Oh, no. She just works there."

Parvati giggled, "She just works alongside the muggles then?"

I nodded, "Yup."

The two of them turned back to their prior conversation. Movement on the other side of the table caught my eye.

George was speaking to a boy with dreadlocks excitedly, and ran his hand through his vivid orange hair. I appraised him appreciatively; he was attractive. I'll give him and his twin that.

I caught a snippet of their conversation after a moment.

"…and Wood says to me, he says, 'you've got to swing the bat this way, Weasley!' So the bloke grabs a hold of my bat and yanks it away from me so fast that he hits himself with it!"

The broad shouldered boy on the other side of me made a noise of indignation, which I probably would have understood had I heard the entire story, but I had more important questions to ask.

"You play Quidditch?" I asked George.

The boy beside me and Fred exchanged glances and grins.

"Yeah, Fred and I are the Gryffindor beaters."

Beaters, oh Merlin. They always have amazing arms.

"Do you play?" asked Fred.

I shook my head. "I wish. I fly fairly well, but I don't have enough hand-eye coordination to play. My best friend is a chaser on the starting team at Clarke, so I get plenty of Quidditch talk from her. I just wish it was a bigger deal over there. I hear Quidditch is huge here." Like soccer. It's not as popular in America as 'football'.

"It is," said George. "Just ask Wood,"

"Wood?"

"That would be me," said the boy I was sitting next to, "Nice to officially meet you, I'm Oliver Wood,"

"Captain and keeper of the Gryffindor team," said Fred

"He eats, and breathes Quidditch," said George

"_He _appreciates a life that's free of narration," snapped Oliver. I laughed, although I felt sort of bad for him. Those two must do this a lot.

The rest of the meal was spent swapping stories about Quidditch. I'm not sure I've ever laughed that hard about anything. I'm also pretty sure that I snorted one or two times, though Fred and George never said a word about it if I did.

I might have also startled quite a few people by my excitement at the sight of desert…

Whoops…

I threw all of the food that looked like it might have had any form of chocolate in it onto my plate and shoveled large bites into my mouth quickly.

"Oh man, this is so good," I moaned a few minutes later around mouthfuls of cake.

Someone snorted nearby and I looked up to see George trying to stifle his laughter.

"Laugh all you want, George, this is still the best damn cake I've had in a while."

"Whatever you say, Miller."

I grinned at him and just continued to eat the slice of cake.

What can I say? A girl's gotta have her chocolate.

**A/N: Alright! So in regards to Interlude, I'm sorry if you were keeping up with it and stuff. There was a lot about it that bothered me, and I'm glad I decided to do a rewrite.**

**Please tell me what you think!**


	2. Forward Tales To Tide

**A/N: No, I don't own Harry Potter. Sadly.**

**Oh well.**

Chapter 2: _Forward Tales to Tide_

_-Ivy_-

The Gryffindor common room was not at all what I expected.

It was like an explosion of red and gold had gone off inside. The chairs were red and gold. The chandeliers were red and gold. The banners that were strung up all around were red and gold. Even the walls were red and gold.

So much red and gold.

It should have been garish, but instead projected warmth and was inexplicably homey and I absolutely adored it.

After being led up to the fifth year dorm by a girl named Maisie Young, who was apparently the fifth year prefect, I was immediately introduced to the rest of the girls in my room.

I was tackled from behind in a tight hug, and high pitched squealing filled my ear.

"Hello! I'm so excited that you're in our dorm! You're bed's right next to mine. I'm Ingrid by the way, Ingrid Twigg." She brushed her dark auburn bangs out of her eyes and stuck out her hand.

I shook it and chuckled. "Ivy Miller," I said. Ingrid smiled and sat down on what I assumed to be her bed.

Maisie reclined on the bed furthest from the one I had been directed to, and pulled out a sketch pad that she doodled on. Her quill flew across the thick vellum paper with precision and speed.

"You're an artist?" I asked her.

"I wouldn't call it that," she murmured, completely absorbed in whatever she had been drawing. She set it aside and perched on the bed again, "It's more of a hobby then anything."

An extremely pale girl with long, dark hair in a ponytail strolled through the door and nearly dropped the bag of toiletries in her hands in surprise, "Oh! Hello! I didn't know you'd gotten in here yet. I'm Alicia Spinnet,"

She moved to her bed and began to get ready for the next day.

A very pretty dark skinned girl perched Indian style on the bed next to mine, and a worn quaffle sat in her lap.

"And I'm Angelina Johnson,"

I grinned at all of them and flopped back on my bed with a sigh.

"You all seem like gems," I said.

Angelina giggled and unfolded herself from the complicated pretzel in which she'd been sitting, before leaping off of her bed and landing next to me on mine.

"You make it sound like there aren't that many 'gems' here,"

"Well, you'd think that too if you'd actually tried to hold a conversation with any of the other exchange kids," I said with an eye roll.

"Oh that's right! You probably had to ride with them on the train here! Why? Did something happen?" asked Ingrid as she rolled onto her stomach and lay across her bed with her head propped in her hands. Alicia and Maisie left their respective bed areas and shared Angelina's to listen to my tale.

"Well, I'm not sure about that Max guy, I barely said anything to him before he fell asleep right on my shoulder," I said with a grimace.

Alicia wrinkled her nose, "I take it that wasn't a pleasant experience?"

"That was _not_ a pleasant experience. I still don't think I managed to banish all of the drool off my shirt."

Ingrid winced and muttered what sounded like 'ew.'

"Yeah, tell me about it. The other two, don't even get me started on them…"

I dove into the tale of Lenore and Ross, and Angelina passed around Chocolate Frogs – a woman after my own heart – before also sharing stories of similarly horrible people she had met.

"So, Ivy, does a cute boy back home await your owl?"

I nearly snorted at Ingrid's question.

"No. No one really ever showed much interest in me back at Clarke. I think the image of awkward little eleven year old Ivy wasn't ever erased from any one's minds."

"Really?" asked Angelina in disbelief. I nodded my head in confirmation.

"Why the hell not? You're really pretty! I find it hard to believe that no one wanted to "hit that"," Ingrid made air quotes around the last part, and looked at me expectantly.

I laughed, "What?"

"You heard me!"

I spluttered and Angelina sighed.

"Ivy, believe me, people probably did."

I blushed and avoided their eyes. I truly _was_ very awkward growing up, what with and the occasional spout of accidental magic, unfortunate hair styles, unflattering glasses, and terribly crooked teeth…

In other words: No one wanted to "hit that" (at least, I seriously hoped they didn't, I was eleven for Christ's sake).

Sure, puberty struck and _wham,_ I blossomed; shedding my glasses, growing out my hair and gaining curves where flat planes used to be.

And thank Merlin my teeth were fixed with a quick spell from the dental specialists at the wizarding hospital in New York; if it weren't for them, I would probably still look like a deformed beaver.

To be honest, I used to be terribly jealous of Maggie. She had always been pretty; I wasn't as lucky.

I got off the bed and dug through my trunk, finding what I was looking for and striding purposefully back to where all of the other girls watched my progress with confused expressions.

"Here," I thrust the picture into Angelina's hands and watched as she raised her eyebrows, "still don't believe me?"

"This is you?"

"Yup,"

"Circe, you've changed –"

"Let me see!" cried Ingrid. She took the photo from Angelina and her jaw dropped, "Wow," her eyes went from me to the photo and back, "nice job, Ivy."

She passed the photo to Alicia and Maisie, who then passed it back to me after they examined it too.

"All right, so we can see what you meant, but that doesn't mean you won't luck out here! Don't think I didn't see you chatting up the Weasley twins and Oliver Wood!"

"We were talking about Quidditch; that's hardly cause for jumping to conclusions like that."

"Ooh, what if you bagged both of the twins?! That would be so cool," said Ingrid.

"No, it wouldn't! That would just be gross. And wrong," I said with my nose wrinkled.

"Yeah, Ingrid, I have to agree with Ivy. That's a little weird." said Alicia.

"Alicia! You can tell us what it's like to snog one of them… er, which one was it again?"

"It was Fred, and no, I will not be sharing that information." she said.

"What's a snog?" I asked them.

They all stared at me incredulously.

"Morgana's lucky hat, Ivy, I know you're horrendously inexperienced, but not so much as to not know what _snogging_ is!" cried Ingrid.

"Snogging, you know, like passionate kissing?" said Alicia with pink lighting her cheeks.

"Oh… Wait, what the hell? Ingrid! I'm not that inexperienced! I'll have you know that I have 'snogged' someone before," I threw my pillow at her and she giggled when it collided with her head. "And it's called making out in America."

"So who did you 'make out' with?" asked Angelina.

"Well, I was at a party over the summer, and everyone decided they wanted to play spin-the-bottle, and I got roped into a game. I ended up having to make out with one of my closest guy friends…" I winced at the memory. It was almost as awkward as my childhood, and Patrick hadn't been able to look me in the eye for a week after it happened.

"I've always wanted to play spin-the-bottle! That sounds like such fun, are you friends with a lot of muggles or something?" asked Ingrid

"Or something," I said, "in America, blood status is pretty much non-existent. We of course learn all about it in our History of Magic classes, it used to be a huge deal in the states; the Civil Rights movement in the 60s wasn't only a rise in the fight for equality among the muggles, but also in the wizarding population. The younger generation of the magical community are really into muggle culture now. We all read muggle literature and magazines and go to the movies." I shrugged, and the girls all looked enthralled. "It's also considered cool to know more things about muggles than your friends."

"America sounds brilliant," said Maisie with a smile

"It's pretty great," I said, "but there's something about magical Britain."

"I know it's because I'm here, Ivy. You should embrace it," Angelina winked suggestively at me and I shoved her off the bed.

"No need to get violent," grumbled Angelina as she sat beside Ingrid.

"I have a question. What's your Quidditch team?" asked Alicia.

"I'm a fan of Montrose. I also support the Fitchburg Finches." My smile widened, "I have this friend who's a total Quidditch nut. She could probably tell you the name of every single Quidditch player in existence… At least, it feels that way."

"Reminds me of a certain seventh year that's the captain of the house team."

I laughed, "You mean Oliver? I have a feeling that he and Maggie _would_ get along swimmingly."

We stayed up talking for the longest time after that, until Maisie seemed to realize just how late it was.

"Oh Merlin's pants! It's nearly 3 in the morning!"

"Damn, we have class tomorrow."

"Yeah, I think it's time we go to bed…"

Needless to say, 4 hours of sleep is definitely _not_ going to help me make a good first impression on my teachers tomorrow.

_George_

What I said about not being easily surprised? Forget all of that. It's utter rubbish, bullshit, poppycock; call it what you want, but the moment those exchange students walked through the doors, I knew that 'fact' was no longer true.

I think Fred just really wants to stick me with some bird. He's probably sick of my everlasting 'single status', because he nudged me not a moment into their entry and whispered, "That brunette is _fit_, don't you think?"

I flicked my eyes along the group and shrugged.

"How can you even see from here?"

"I can just tell, Georgie. I bet you a whole galleon that _you_ will find her exceptionally attractive."

"You're on,"

I don't think I really believed my brother, until she was sorted into Gryffindor and approached the empty spot across from me.

Fred realized what I was thinking, because he nudged me again and raised an eyebrow as if to say 'told you so,'

I'm going to have to agree with Fred. Ivy Miller is pretty.

Well, a lot of girls are pretty, but Ivy Miller… Ivy Miller was special somehow.

It sucks having a twin sometimes, because they always seem to know what you're thinking. Which is utterly infuriating.

After she starting talking to Lavender Brown, Fred held his hand out under the table and I grudgingly pressed a galleon into his palm.

"Thank you," he muttered with a smug smile.

I guess I was surprised even more when she chimed into the conversation we were having about Quidditch, and blinked those humongous brown eyes at me.

I mean, _huge_, brown eyes.

Brown isn't supposed to be a remarkable color at all. It's supposed to be flat and dull and dark. It's not supposed to 'catch in the candlelight' and 'dance' and 'have so much soul'.

Is it possible for someone's eyes to be that ridiculously doe-y? (Doe-ish? Doe-like?}

She looked so different from anyone I'd ever met. No one's eyes were like hers. No one's laugh sounded like hers. It was a unique pretty, I guess. She smiled at me, and I couldn't help but smile back.

What is wrong with me?

I can't fancy her. I've barely exchanged 20 words with her for Merlin's sake! How does that even happen?

But what's so bad about that?

Fred would probably laugh his arse off if he ever heard me say any of this out loud.

_Would Ivy be someone I wasn't likely to forget?_

I glanced at her and saw that she was tearing through a slice of cake with so much enthusiasm that I was sure she'd crack her plate.

"Oh man, this is so good," She moaned. It came out slightly muffled due to the presence of cake in her mouth. I snorted and she looked around with an amused expression.

"Laugh all you want, George, this is still the best damn cake I've had in a while."

"Whatever you say, Miller." I grinned.

_She would be very hard to forget, indeed._

-_Ivy _-

The morning following my arrival at Hogwarts has to be one of the strangest I have ever experienced in my entire life. It started out typically; someone (Ingrid) was forced to unceremoniously dump me onto the freezing, stone floor in order to wake me, and so I grumbled under my breath as Ingrid screeched about being late for breakfast.

After being dragged out of the common room and through the twisting halls of the school, I saw something that was strange, to say the least.

A foot was sticking out from behind a tapestry near the great hall.

Was this a normal thing? Did Hogwarts just have random appendages floating around?

I recalled the facts from the only book I had read an unhealthy number of times. (Partly due to my appalling fascination with this damn, drafty school. My feet have never been so cold.) _Hogwarts, a History _was a fantastic read, although nowhere did it mention having to encounter hovering body parts.

Ingrid seemed to not have noticed it, so I told her to go ahead to breakfast – with the completely lame excuse of 'ladies room!'

Once her long mane of auburn hair had whipped around the corner and out of sight, I approached the offending foot, and prodded it not all too gently with my wand.

With a yelp, George (or was it Fred?), toppled out from behind the curtain and caught a hold of my wrist, effectively bringing me down with him.

I stared at him, and he stared at me with wide blue eyes.

God damn, if those weren't the bluest eyes I've ever seen in my life.

It was like staring into the sky, I mean honestly, how does someone get eyes like that?

It didn't even register how weird it was to be able to see every single freckle on his face; especially that adorable little one right under his eyebrow.

A moment passed, and then I realized that I was on the floor.

And on top of someone.

With our faces mere inches away.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" I leapt off of him and scrambled to my feet.

He stood and brushed off his robes sheepishly, "Er –"

"George? You get the prank –" his twin stepped into the hallway, and stopped dead when he caught sight of me.

"Oh hello, Ivy," he said with an evil-looking grin.

"Morning," I said as I felt my face heating.

Damn it. Wait, did he just say something about a prank?

"Were you about to say something about a prank?" I asked him with an excited smile on my face.

The two of them exchanged a glance and suspicious looks in their eyes.

"Oh, honestly. I'm not going to tell someone,"

Fred's lips twitched and he sighed, "Fine. Georgie and I were going to prank someone."

"Sounds like fun,"

Fred chuckled at me and nodded, "Yeah. Speaking of, George, did you get it set up?"

George blinked at him for a moment, before his face looked horrified.

"I did, and it's going to be going off any second!"

"Shite!" Fred looked around wildly, and then a loud crash was heard from somewhere in the castle.

A thundering came from the great hall that could only be the sound of students rushing to investigate the source of the loud noise.

A hand grabbed mine and pulled me after Fred, who was already sprinting down the corridor. George and I followed his twin, joining him in a crevice behind an astoundingly ugly statue that depicted a wizard named 'Flavius the Friendly'.

It didn't occur to me just how ridiculously tall they were, until I was squished into an increasingly small space between them. I barely came up to either of their shoulders.

Maybe they're not that tall. Maybe I'm just midget.

No, that's not it. I'm short, but not that short.

"Would either of you like to explain to me what it is exactly that you _did?_"

"Charmed a can of paint –"

"Or three –"

"Or fifteen –"

"To pour on Mrs. Norris and Filch when they passed by the painting of those drunk witches."

"And then fall to the floor?" I asked.

"Well…"

"You forgot to silence them, didn't you?" I said.

"It may have slipped my mind." said George.

The three of us grew silent, and I opened my mouth to say something, when Fred's hand clamped over it. I was sorely tempted to lick, or bite it, but I realized why he had done it. The sound of shuffling footsteps and muttering approached our hiding spot.

"Those beasts… think it's funny to make my school a mess… I'll get them for this… Dumbledore… whips…"

What?

Fred's hand withdrew from my face and I glared at him.

"If you do that again, I will not hesitate to bite you."

He threw his hands up in surrender and grinned.

"You're alright, Miller," He left the nook and ran down the hall.

George chuckled and ran a hand through his hair.

"Sorry about that, didn't mean for you to get caught up in this."

"It's fine, really. I've had fun,"

"Good, er, did you ever get to breakfast?"

"No, why?"

"They had chocolate muffins and –"

"Damn it!"

"– I have one if you want it,"

I gasped and threw my arms around him. "You're the absolute greatest,"

He shook his head bemusedly and reached, maneuvering around my arms, into his bag to retrieve the pastry.

He handed it to me, and we began the walk to the first class that the fifth year Gryffindors had.

"Ugh, my god! Seriously," I said around mouthfuls of rich chocolate-y goodness, "I _might_ be in love with this muffin."

"I have no idea how to respond to that statement,"

"Will you be the best man at our wedding, Georgie?"

"I also have no idea how to respond to that question."

"It's too late. I ate him. Looks like I can't get married after all."

"Shame. You would have made a lovely bride," he said, a blush creeping onto his cheeks, although I didn't notice a thing.

"Thank you, good sir! Is that the charms classroom?" I asked, catching sight of a cluster of students waiting outside a tall doorway. He nodded and I grinned up at him.

One body detached itself from the group and ran over to me.

"Ivy! Where did you go?" blubbered Ingrid, "You didn't get lost, did you? Oh, I knew I should've gone with you to the loo,"

"Ingrid, Ingrid, calm down! I'm fine, I promise. I just got a little side tracked…" I glanced at George, and he smirked.

"You didn't even get anything to eat! Oh, I knew I forgot something! When you didn't show up, I meant to bring you something but I left it at the table, damn it!"

"Ingrid it's fine, I promise!"

"You sure?"

"Absolutely," I assured her as we joined the queue waiting to get into the classroom.

"Come in class, come in!" squeaked a little man from the doorway.

We filed in, and everyone began sitting at their seats around the room.

"Miss Miller! I'm Professor Flitwick. Your seat is beside Mister Jordan,"

Flitwick pointed me to a seat beside the boy with dreadlocks. I slipped behind the table, and he turned and grinned at me devilishly.

"So Ivy, I've heard that in America there are these great big –"

I have a feeling that this is going to be an interesting class.


	3. Search for the Moon

**A/N: No, I don't own Harry Potter.**

Chapter 3: _Search for the Moon_

I_vy_

My first day at Hogwarts was surprisingly normal.

Charms was an interesting enough class. The professor at Clarke had been dreadfully boring; Flitwick was a breath of fresh air. I'd always been fairly good at charms, so the lesson wasn't too difficult to grasp, and by the end of the class I was among the few that had succeeded in causing my teacup to dance across the desk. Potions, and Care of Magical Creatures went well enough, both being classes I'm decent in; the former more so than the latter. You can say that Professor Snape was pretty shocked when Fred Weasley and I were the only two able to produce viable Pepperup Potions in the entire class.

Actually, the entire class was shocked that Fred Weasley and I were the only ones able to brew Pepperup Potions.

Transfiguration is probably the only class I was absolutely psyched for. It always has been, and always will be, my absolute favorite subject. I've always loved the idea of taking one thing and turning it into another. The endless possibilities continue to amaze me. By the end of the period, I had earned Gryffindor 20 points for being the first to transfigure my mouse into a shoe.

When Ingrid and I entered our final class, she grinned and pulled me up to a seat near the front of the room. A tired looking man with graying hair and shabby robes stood at the front and leaned against the front of his desk. He offered me a small smile and nodded his head in greeting, before turning back to scan the rest of the room. Once every seat had been filled, he made his way to the center of the room and dragged a heavy looking trunk along with him.

"Good afternoon, class," he said, with a grin, "I'd like to say welcome to two of our exchange students, Miss Miller, and Miss Hedley."

Lenore was in here? I hadn't seen her enter the room. I glanced around, and saw that she was seated beside a dark haired Ravenclaw girl near the back of the room.

"Last week, we began working on offensive jinxes and hexes. Today, I'd like to see everyone practice the stunning spell on these cushions," he flicked open the trunk and pulled out thick pillows, "please pair up and begin."

Ingrid and I claimed a small corner of the room to practice in peace. Each armed with a cushion, we took turns casting the spell. I was thanking the powers that be that we were to be working on a spell that I had mastered last year at Clarke. Stunning as well as other offensive spells had never really been my forte. It took me nearly a month to be really grasp the spell and properly cast it. I think my problem is that I'm afraid to hurt anyone, so the intent behind my offensive spells is generally weaker than it should be.

Damn me and my irrational fear of harming someone.

I'm not too bad at defensive spells, like shield charms.

"STUPEFY!"

"Nice work Ingrid!" Lupin had stopped in front of us and was now watching our volleying.

"Ivy, what was the last concept you learned in your previous Defense class?"'

"Uh, we just finished up shield charms and disarming charms, I think I left right before we were going to begin the section on protective spells and defenses. I learned about half of the OWL level offensive spells last year, and we were going to finish up the year with the rest of them."

"Interesting approach… I think you'll be fine then. This next month or so will be good review for you. I've been planning to begin warding spells in mid-November."

I smiled, "Thank you for letting me know."

"STUPEFY!"

The cushion flew out of my hands and exploded from the force of the spell hitting it. Ingrid and I gaped at it, while Lupin laughed and conjured a waste bin.

"Ingrid that is one of the most flawlessly executed stunners I have ever seen. Great job," he said, "Alright, class dismissed!"

And so, the first day of education at the school I've been dying to attend since I was 5 has come to a close.

* * *

_A dark haired man crept out of an alleyway and approached a much pudgier man at a steady pace, _"_Hello there, Peter,__"_

_A car raced past the pair. A song I recognized, by REO Speedwagon, was blaring from its speakers. I shivered in the blustery air. Peter's back stiffened. The dark haired man pointed his wand at Peter. Peter turned around slowly, _"_S-Sirius,__" he stuttered, wringing his hands nervously._

_The people bustling back and forth paid no attention to the men, most of them hurrying to get to their jobs and destinations. I glanced around in confusion. How did I get here? Unless – _

"_It was you all along, wasn't it? It was never Remus like we suspected," the man with dark hair – Sirius Black, I now realized – was walking toward Peter with a predatory glare in his eyes. He noticed that Peter was drawing his wand, "What're you going to do? Call your Master?" he sneered, "No one can protect you now, Pettigrew," he spat out the man's last name like it was poison. Pettigrew glanced around nervously, taking note of all the pedestrians. Black was backing him into broad daylight. He seemed to be thinking quick, because all of a sudden he began shouting._

"_How could you betray Lily and James, Sirius?! They trusted you!"_

_Black just raised his wand, but before he could even begin to curse him, _"_Bombarda!_"

The scent of wet grass floated into our dormitory through an open window. It had long stopped raining, but a damp smell still lingered in the air. It overwhelmed me as I lay in my bed gasping for air. I sat up and wiped my cheeks hastily, before cancelling the silencing charm I had placed around my bed last night.

A shudder ran through me and I slipped out of my dormitory, past the open window, and into the common room to sit in front of the fire. I rubbed my arms and edged closer to it, trying to feel the full effects of its warmth.

"Ivy?"

I very nearly shrieked at the sound of my name. Someone settled down on the ground beside me, and I looked over at the Weasley that had come down from the dormitory. A glance at his eyebrows affirmed my suspicions and I blushed a little, remembering our little encounter yesterday.

"Why are you up?" he asked.

"I could ask you the same question, George."

"Lee snores… wait, have you been crying?"

Damn it. I rubbed my cheeks, and felt that they were still sticky from tears.

"Are you alright?" George looked on at me in concern.

"Yeah, it was just…" I trailed off a little.

"Just what?"

"Don't laugh," I warned him with a sniff. He nodded, "I had a nightmare."

"Oh," I felt him lift his arm and hesitate, before putting it around me.

I leaned into him and sniffed again.

"It was… terrible." I said with a shudder, "These two men, they were arguing about something. No, one man was shouting at the other, and then one of them went and blew up the street. It was so violent,"

"That sounds like," he furrowed his eyebrow, "That sounds like what Sirius Black did."

"Yeah, I think it was," I grimaced. Black had looked like his entire world had ended. What I imagine had once been an extremely lively face, was grief-stricken and in pain in my dream.

"So you had a dream about Sirius Black blowing up Peter Pettigrew and that street?" asked George. He brushed some hair out of his eyes and looked at me in concern.

"Not exactly. The other man, Pettigrew, was the one that blew up the street. He also cut off his finger and turned into a rat." I said with a frown.

George wrinkled his nose. "That doesn't sound right; I'm pretty sure it was Black."

I shrugged, "It was only a dream, right?"

George grinned and squeezed my arm, "Right." He said. I sighed and lay my head on his shoulder.

"Thanks, George."

"How did you know I'm George?" he asked with a grin, "No one ever gets it right,"

"That's for me to know, and you to find out, isn't it?" I teased him. He smiled and shook his head in exasperation.

We sat in front of the fire for another hour, just talking about everything – and nothing – until the common room began to lighten. I frowned and glanced at the clock with a start, "Oh hell, it's 4," I removed his arm from around me and jumped to my feet. "I should get to bed if I want to be a functioning person tomorrow, so goodnight," I bowed somewhat awkwardly, then realized what I'd said, "Or actually, good morning,"

"Night-morning, then?" he asked.

I considered it, before nodding, "Night-morning. Exactly."

He grinned and leaned back on his palms, "Goodnight-morning, then, Ivy."

I snuck back into my bed and lay for a while, just absorbing what had happened, and clutching a spare pillow to my chest. I drifted back to sleep with a smile on my lips, knowing that I'd made a friend in George Weasley.

_Fred_

"George? George! Hello?" I waved my hand in front of George's face and snapped my fingers trying to attract his attention. He continued to stare at the wall with his face propped up in his hands. Lee and I exchanged glances and grins.

"Should I do it?" asked Lee, I shrugged.

"I'm going to do it," Lee drew his hand back and slapped his cheek.

"OW! Bloody hell! What was that for?" yelled George, suddenly clutching his face.

"We've been calling your name for the past three minutes." said Lee with a roll to his eyes.

"Have you? Sorry, I didn't get much sleep last night." George slipped back into his absentminded expression. The git's not telling me something.

"And why's that?" I asked curiously.

"Lee was snoring," he said. Lee made a noise of indignation and George glared at him. I shrugged at Lee; having learned and perfected the silencing charm, I didn't have much trouble with sleeping in the same room as him. George was rubbish at silencing charms, though. Brilliant with anything else, but he couldn't keep anything quiet to save his life.

"I went to the common room to see if I could sleep on one of the couches, and Ivy was down there." He said with a smile.

Oh, Georgie, you have it _bad_.

Lee grinned and began to wiggle his eyebrows, "Let me guess, you two didn't do much talking. Oh Fred, I'm so proud of our little Georgie. He bagged the hot exchange student!"

George rolled his eyes and smacked Lee in the back of the head. "Get your head out of the gutter, you prat; we were just talking."

I grinned and clapped him on the shoulder. "Whatever you say, Gred. We should head to Wood's meeting, yeah?"

"Yeah…"

Nearly three hours later, George and I were back in the common room and talking about the upcoming Hogsmeade trip. I suggested to George that he ask Ivy to go with him.

George suggested that I 'sod off'.

The arse.

A commotion near the fireplace drew my attention

"OY!" Ron roared, seizing his bag as Crookshanks sank four sets of claws deep inside it and began tearing ferociously. "GET OFF, YOU STUPID ANIMAL!"

I rolled my eyes at my younger brother and settled into a seat beside Ivy and Ingrid Twigg to watch the whole debacle go down.

George, being the noble git that he is, tried to help. I laughed at him when he missed the bloody cat and he sighed and came to sit with me.

"So, Ivy, are you going to Hogsmeade with anyone?" asked Ingrid as they scribbled away at essays for various classes.

"Actually, I am," I raised my eyebrows and leaned forward to listen to their conversation.

"Someone's already asked you?" I asked.

"Yes," said Ivy with a smile, "that's what I just said,"

"Who is it?" Ingrid had abandoned her assignment and the quill lay discarded on top of her half-finished charms essay; leaving splotches of ink all over it.

"Um, Roger Davies?"

"WHAT?!" shrieked Ingrid. The tall girl grabbed Ivy's arm and dragged her through the common room and up the dormitory stairs, leaving me and George sitting at the small table.

I glanced at George, and saw that he had a strange expression on his face. Not jealousy or anger, but confusion.

"Alright there, Gred?"

"Hmm?" he asked after a moment.

"Alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"Then what is it?"

There was a pause. He just stared into space. I tapped my toe impatiently, waiting for him to just go on and say it.

"… I think I fancy her,"

I very nearly smacked him over the back of the head. However, I restrained myself and clapped my hands together instead.

"Lovely. Now that you've finally admitted it, what are you going to do?"

"I'm going to… I'll…" he trailed off, "I'll do nothing because she's going on a date with Davies."

Shit. Forgot about that.

_Ivy_

The next few weeks passed in a crazy blur full of classwork, and meeting new people. On Halloween morning, I was awoken in the usual way; Ingrid shoving me to the floor and screaming "GET UP!" This time, instead of being left to my own devices, Angelina and Ingrid proceeded to style my hair, do my make-up, and dress me up in what they deemed 'appropriate' attire for a date.

"No! Absolutely not," I protested when I saw the first ensemble they had forced me into.

"But why?" whined Ingrid.

"Well, for one, this top is _way_ too low cut. Two, this skirt is too short, and three, I hate these shoes. No offense Angie."

"None taken. I sort of hated them too," She admitted.

"Then what are you going to wear, Ivy?" Ingrid huffed, plopping onto her bed to watch me struggle out of the clothing that looked weird on me, but appropriate on Ingrid, who was, well, a twig. Ingrid Twigg was a twig. That's funny, I never thought about it that way.

I thought for a moment, before tossing Ingrid the skimpy clothing, burrowing through my trunk, changing quickly, and turning to my friends for inspection.

Angelina glanced up and down my body and did a little twirling motion with her finger. I spun in a slow circle, and Angelina smiled.

"I like it." She said with a nod.

"It'll do…" sighed Ingrid dramatically. I rolled my eyes at her.

"Well what are you waiting for? Roger's probably waiting for you in the entrance hall!" cried Angelina.

Roger was, in fact, waiting in the entrance hall.

I spent the next two hours in agonizing _boredom_. That was probably one of the most horrible dates I have ever been on (only date I have ever been on). He didn't even talk to me. We literally sat next to each other in complete silence in the most hideously pink shop, Madame Puddifoot's. I pity every girl that has ever had the misfortune of being brought there on a date.

Don't get me wrong, I'm a hopeless romantic, but not when it's being crammed down your throat in the form of heart-shaped confetti, finger sandwiches, and a crowded store full of hormonal teenagers.

Once I had returned, I flopped back on my bed and groaned. Angelina glanced up from the magazine she was flipping through with a small smile on her face.

"_So_," she drawled, "How was your date?" she asked.

"Completely terrible, excruciatingly dull, quite horrendous. Take your pick." I covered my face with my pillow and heard a faint giggle. Removing the pillow, I glared at her.

"It's not funny,"

"It's very funny."

We looked at each other unblinkingly for a moment, until her lips twitched and she snorted again. My pillow flew across the room and smacked her in the face.

"Oi! Why do you always feel the need to get so violent?" she complained.

Suddenly the door banged open and a lithe figure lunged onto my bed and tackled me.

"IVY!" screamed Ingrid, "How was Roger?"

I spent the rest of the time leading up to the Halloween feast assuring Ingrid that she wasn't missing anything when it came to Roger Davies.

I found myself seated in between the twins for the feast, and across from Angelina. The food was delicious; I ate about three helpings of fudge pie, resulting in a chuckle from George. I jabbed him in the side with my elbow with a grin flickering on my face.

Fred, George, and I had become fast friends after that night that George found me in the common room. Even after a mere three weeks of friendship, it felt as though we had known each other for years. It sounds a bit strange, I know, but it feels like the most natural thing in the world.

I was currently listening to Fred explain – in painful detail – his latest conquest.

"– and then she – "

"Alright," I interrupted with a clap of my hands, "As lovely as that was, I think the feast is coming to a close…" thank god. I wasn't sure I could take another second of that conversation. As flattered as I was that Fred found himself comfortable enough around me to divulge that kind of information, I didn't particularly have the stomach for it after the heavy (and delicious) food.

We joined the crowd of students swarming around the portrait entrance to the common room. No one seemed to be going in, and I looked around for someone who'd be able to tell me what was happening.

"What's going on?" I asked Ingrid as she sidled up next to me with a frown that was not often seen on the happy girl.

"Dunno, I just got here,"

"Let me through, please," came Percy Weasley's voice, "What's the holdup here? You can't all have forgotten the password – excuse me, I'm Head Boy –"

George and I exchanged a glance, and he rolled his eyes. We elbowed our way to the front and I gasped at what greeted me.

And then a silence fell over the crowd, from the front first, so that a chill seemed to spread down the corridor. We heard Percy say, in a suddenly sharp voice, "Somebody get Professor Dumbledore. Quick."

The Fat Lady had vanished from her portrait, which had been slashed so viciously that strips of canvas littered the floor; great chunks of it had been torn away completely.

It barely registered that I was now clutching George's arm with wide eyes. I didn't notice the oddly tender look he gave me, nor did I notice the smirk that Fred was trying to suppress in light of the situation.

"Nasty temper he's got, that Sirius Black."

Ten minutes later, Ingrid, Angelina, Alicia, and I were laying in a circle, encased in the squashy purple sleeping bags that Dumbledore provided to the entire student body. Maisie had joined some of her Hufflepuff friends across the room. George, Fred, and Lee lay their sleeping bags beside us a moment later, to discuss the sudden happenings.

"How, in the name of Merlin, did Sirius Black get into Hogwarts?" asked Angelina from her spot beside me.

All around us, people were asking one another the same question: "How did he get in?"

"Maybe he knows how to Apparate," said a Ravenclaw a few feet away, "Just appear out of thin air, you know."

"Disguised himself, probably," said a Hufflepuff fifth year.

"He could've flown in," suggested a third year, Dean something.

"The lights are going out now!" Fred and George's older brother Percy was storming around the great hall, obviously enjoying the privileges that went along with being Head Boy. "I want everyone in their sleeping bags and no more talking!"

I burrowed deeper into the purple fabric and stared at the ceiling. It had the night sky projected onto it. Surveying the twinkling stars and glowing moon gave me a small smile. I had always loved star gazing, and tonight was no exception.

"_Beautiful, isn't it_?" whispered a voice from beside me.

I glanced over at George and nodded. He winked at me before settling more comfortably into his sleeping bag; his eyes now trained on the enchanted ceiling.

"_Beautiful,_" he whispered again; more to himself than to me. I watched him for a moment, then turned my head back up to look at the moon.

**A/N: So, there's chapter 3! Chapter 4 will be posted as soon as possible.**

**Let me know what you think!**


	4. Take This Sinking Boat and Point It Home

Chapter 4: _Take this Sinking Boat and Point it Home_

_Ivy_

I can't believe I've already been here for close to three months. The time really has flown by; I got here on October first. A flash of red on my right caught my attention, and I found myself face to face with a grinning George Weasley.

"I've got something for you," he said.

"What is it?" I asked him with a smile.

He pulled a Chocolate Frog out from behind his back, handed it to me without another word, then winked and jogged off toward Fred.

I shook my head and giggled, before tearing open the package and taking a bite of the chocolate.

He was so cute sometimes…

Wait, what?

Did I just call George cute?

I stopped eating the Chocolate Frog and probably looked incredibly stupid with the thing sticking out of my mouth, but I had more pressing things to think about right now.

Do I… do I _like_ George?

We're friends though. Maybe even best friends. There's no way he thinks of me as more than a friend.

He's the person whose shoulder I cry on. He's the person I tell everything to. If he wasn't already in the common room, I would sneak up his dorm to shake him awake (he had sort of insisted on it after finding me alone again, only two nights after the first incident.).

I feel like I can tell him anything and everything. He was the kind of guy that was just as content sitting and saying nothing, as having an extremely deep, and soulful conversation.

He knew how to comfort me in ways that were previously known only to Maggie and maybe my sister. He knew just how to make me laugh, how to cheer me up, how to calm me down, how to… how to make me aware of everything.

It didn't help that he had to go and be so god damn attractive. The bright red hair, the blue eyes, the straight nose... agh, kill me now.

But those lips, Merlin those lips.

What is wrong with me? All of this popped out of nowhere, and now I want to kiss him. I want to march across the common room and plant a big one righ- no, no I can't do that.

He doesn't like me.

If anything, I'm probably like a sister to him or something. I frowned and set down the half-finished chocolate frog, my stomach churning uncomfortably. I can usually stomach chocolate for anything.

Liking someone has to be so damn complicated.

Add that on to all of the confusing dreams I've been having since I got here. Well, I've always had the dreams, they've just never been this vivid.

I'd only had a handful of dreams since that first night, the highlights of those included one of Sirius Black riding into the sunset on a hippogriff, and another where Snape was thrown into a wall.

And then there had been the one with Hagrid and the baby dragon he kept calling Norbert…

Huh.

It was about mid-December, and the Christmas holiday was fast approaching. The end-of-term trip to Hogsmeade was all anybody could talk about, and I was determined to make the most of it, so when Ingrid had suggested that we spend the day together, I jumped at the chance.

When I came with Roger, I really only saw the inside of one store; Madame Puddifoot's. This time, I made sure to go into every single shop I laid eyes on, no matter how much Ingrid complained.

"Ivy, you don't even play Quidditch!"

"What do you need to go into Zonko's for?"

"You have a bloody owl! There's no point in going to the post office!"

I ignored her whining.

After about twenty minutes of me entering stores that Ingrid thought were pointless, she grasped my elbow and pulled me into one of the most glorious places I have ever been.

Honeydukes smelled like heaven; its high shelves stocked with row after row of chocolates, and other confections. There was every type of candy imaginable, and little pastries, and bottles of chilled pumpkin juice and butterbeer. A teetering display of chocolate frogs, that could only have stayed upright under the influence of magic, swayed dangerously from side to side. Round, pastel colored candies filled one barrel, while Every Flavor Beans filled another. Packages of Ice Mice, and Jelly Slugs, and Pepper Imps, and Sugar Quills, and Peppermint Toads were scattered all throughout the store. Hogwarts students filtered in and out of the packed shop, their arms laden with treats.

Ingrid must have seen my awe struck face, because she snickered and ran off to grab a few boxes of Sugar Quills, leaving me to my own devices.

I wandered around, grabbing a box of whatever candy caught my eye – the majority of it being chocolate – when a simpering voice grabbed my attention.

"Oh, Roger! You really didn't have to buy me anything!" I peered around the corner and nearly gagged at the sight.

Lenore was clutching Roger Davies' arm so tightly that it looked painful, while he cradled a few boxes of heart shaped candies.

I rolled my eyes, when someone prodded my arm. I glanced behind me and saw George watching me with an amused face.

"What're you doing there, Ivy"

"Shh," I motioned him closer and gestured to the couple around the corner. He looked at them and wrinkled his nose; his contempt for the two blatantly obvious. I told him all about the disastrous date with Roger, and my dislike for Lenore during one of our late night discussions.

I giggled and made my way to the cashier, with George following me close behind. Piling the numerous boxes of chocolate onto the counter, I turned and scanned the store for Ingrid; spotting her nearby a Blowing Gum display.

After being handed my numerous bags, I made my way over to Ingrid and grinned at her.

"I'm done in here!" I said, Ingrid nodded and glanced down at her watch.

"One hour and thirty-three minutes." She said with a giggle.

"You were only in here for an hour and a half? Impressive. I would've guessed at least three." teased George.

I blushed and rolled my eyes.

He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, "Well, I came in here to find you… er, are you two coming to the Three Broomsticks to meet up with the rest of us?" he asked.

"Sure, George." I said.

"O-okay… I'll see you, er, later." He backed away and nearly knocked over the barrel of Fizzing Whizzbees. He caught it before it could do serious damage to the store, then left with his face burning bright red.

Ingrid turned to me with a wide smile and gripped my arm, "He fancies you!" she squealed.

"He does not," I protested as a flush began to creep up my neck. Ingrid suddenly gasped and pointed an accusing finger at me.

"You fancy him, don't you!" my silence seemed to affirm her suspicions, and she pouted. "How could you not tell me? We're best friends!"

I shrugged helplessly, and Ingrid pouted for another second, before she spun around to face me and pulling me out of the shop.

"Come on! You don't want to be late for your beau."

"What? Ingrid, he is not my beau!"

"Not yet…" said Ingrid suggestively.

"Ingrid!"

She dragged me across the street to a warm looking pub that was packed with students looking to escape the blizzard-like conditions outside.

"This," said Ingrid as she pushed open the door, "is the Three Broomsticks."

"It's very, um, homey?"

Ingrid huffed and pushed me toward a table that housed the twins, Lee, Angelina, and Alicia.

"Hello!" cried Ingrid. She shoved me into a seat across from Fred and winked obnoxiously. I rolled my eyes and turned to him.

Was I really the only one that could tell them apart?

_Ingrid_

No matter how many times I've told her, Ivy continues to deny the fact that George has a thing for her.

Which is completely barmy, right?

And so I, Ingrid Twigg, have decided to take control of the situation. It is now my priority to figure out how to get them together.

And why not have fun with this? My father used to read me stories about spies and secret agents and missions. I always wanted to live the life as an agent with codenames and shit.

So, step one in _Operation… _huh.

Step One is to come up with a good Operation name.

Maybe I'll give it a symbolic name. Like… Honeyduke; that's where this smart plan of mine started. No! Fizzing Whizzbee; in honor of the barrel that George almost knocked over yesterday. Operation Fizzing Whizzbee. It's perfect.

Step Two is to recruit some fellow agents.

Angelina was all for it, said she was "tired of watching those two make moon-eyes at each other," and Alicia agreed to be the official lookout; thus Pepper Imp and Sugar Quill were born.

Lee also decided that he wanted to be a part of the whole thing when he overheard me talking about it to Alicia, so he christened himself with the name Exploding Bon-Bon, and told me he was going to be the official 'Gatherer of Snacks for secret mission meetings'.

There was one other person that I wanted to include in my scheming. My only problem was figuring out a way to get the twins apart as well as ensure that the one I did corner _was _in fact Fred, not George.

Hmm… Oh! Idea!

I cleared my throat, "Er, George?" the twins looked up at me, "Ivy's looking for you."

The one on the right leapt up from the couch and left the common room in a hurry. My lips twitched when he ran back in, "Where is she?"

"In the library," I said. He nodded and ran back out. Fred chuckled.

"Now that he's gone, I have a proposition for you…" I began.

Acid Pop was added to the team a short while later. Oh, Fred fought me on that code name, but I won.

Step Three was commenced the last day before term ended.

_Phase 1: The Kiss_, begins.

"Chocolate Frog is approaching Jelly Slug, I repeat, Chocolate Frog is approaching Jelly Slug." I hissed to Acid Pop. "Do you have the Mistletoe?" he held out a sprig of the plant and I grinned evilly at it.

"Is it charmed?"

"Of course," said Acid Pop.

Sugar Quill (Alicia) looked confused for a moment, "Why did Ivy and George –"

"Chocolate Frog and Jelly Slug!" I interrupted.

"Fine, why did _Chocolate Frog and Jelly Slug _need code names?"

"That's just how it works, Sugar Quill,"

Pepper Imp squinted at me and frowned, "But Ing-"

"Cauldron Cake,"

"But Cauldron Cake," began Pepper Imp, "all these code names are ridiculously wordy,"

"What are you lot up to?" asked George. He and Ivy had appeared right behind our group during our whispered argument. I glared at Sugar Quill. She was supposed to be the lookout.

Why did no one understand how Secret Missions worked?

"What code names?" asked Ivy.

Shit. Shit, shit, shitty shit shit, shit. She's figured us out. I opened my mouth to attempt some half assed excuse, when Fred saved my sorry arse.

"We were just talking about the Appleby match from yesterday. Alicia said she didn't want to know what happened, so we were trying to use different names for the players."

"Oh, Okay. Goodnight everyone!" said Ivy brightly, before making her way to the dormitory.

I guess _Phase 1_ will have to commence after the holiday.

_Ivy_

I spent my Christmas break at Hogwarts along with a few other kids. The rest of the Gryffindor fifth years and the other exchange students decided to go home for the holidays. I would have as well, but my parents wanted to go on some couples cruise to Florida, and my sister decided that she'd visit her old roommate from Clarke, who lives up in Vancouver. The only others that stayed in Gryffindor tower were Fred and George's younger brother, a girl with impossibly bushy hair, and Harry Potter.

I kept mostly to myself for the first two days, spending most of it in the Owlery; sending lengthy letters to my parents and Maggie, and Christmas presents to my new friends.

Christmas day brought with it the usual gifts of candy, although my parents did send me a new set of robes, and Maggie got me a book full of useful (as well as useless) charms; including one that made your eyebrows flash different colors, and another that caused your ears to wiggle.

I was seated in between the bushy-haired third year and Professor McGonagall at lunch. It was a weird sensation, sitting with all the teachers for a meal, but it didn't last when I caught a glimpse of the gleaming chocolate cake situated right in the center of the table. I almost felt bad for the small first year that left the table early, complaining of a stomachache. _Almost_. (Serves the kid right though. Eating your way through three platters of sausage is a bad idea, and I have no idea what compelled him to do it.)

I made polite conversation with the third year (Hermione, I later learned) about the coursework in America. She was apparently muggleborn, because she had very loudly approved the English and 'History of Muggles' classes that were mandatory. She also seemed quite excited that we had had to take mathematics up to Algebra I in order to enroll in Arithmancy.

I liked her immediately and immensely.

Professor McGonagall is like no one I have ever met before. I liked her when I met her at the train station, and I liked her on the first day of class. Not many teachers have stayed as constant as she. She was to the point. Very no-nonsense. I have a lot of respect for her; the fact that she taught my favorite class probably only adds fuel to that fire.

Not long into the meal, a misty-looking woman I had seldom seen wandering around the school, came drifting into the great hall.

Professor Trelawney taught divination, as it turned out, and she looked like a great big fraud to me. The English teacher at Clarke was a Seer, she often wrote small predictions in the margins of our essays, and she acted nothing like Trelawney. My old headmaster had been very adamant that a divination course not be added to the curriculum. He had called it 'completely useless,' and it is.

Unless you're actually a Seer, and if I'm correct, you only have a one in a million chance of that happening.

"I have been crystal gazing, Headmaster," said Professor Trelawney in a faraway voice, "and to my astonishment, I saw myself abandoning my solitary luncheon and coming to join you. Who am I to refuse the promptings of fate? I at once hastened from my tower, and I do beg you to forgive my lateness..."

Complete bullshit.

"Certainly, certainly," said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling. I've never met a man with eyes as twinkly as his, "Let me draw you up a chair –"

He conjured a chair from midair with his wand, a feat which had me mystified. That was _really_ advanced transfiguration. McGonagall seemed to sense my dewy-eyedness, for she gave me an unexpected wink and turned back to Dumbledore.

Professor Trelawney, however, did not sit down; her bug-eyes had been roving around the table, and she suddenly uttered a weirdly soft scream.

"I dare not, Headmaster! If I join the table, we shall be thirteen! Nothing could be more unlucky! Never forget that when thirteen dine together, the first to rise will be the first to die!"

"We'll risk it, Sibyll," said Professor McGonagall impatiently. "Do sit down, the turkey's getting stone cold."

Professor Trelawney frowned, then gingerly lowered herself into the 'awesome chair', eyes shut and mouth clenched tight, as though expecting an elephant to fall out of the sky and hit the table. Professor McGonagall poked a large spoon into the nearest dish.

"Tripe, Sibyll?"

Professor McGonagall is officially my favorite person.

The rest of the meal passed in relative normality. That is, until Harry and Ron got up at the exact same time. Trelawney went absolutely bat-shit crazy, and after the duo finally left the hall, I excused myself and followed them up to the Gryffindor common room with the new transfiguration book I got from my parents on my mind.

Sometime during my mad dash to the dormitory and back to the common room, Harry had retrieved one of his gifts and was now sitting and admiring it with wide eyes. The second I caught sight of the thing, my book fell to the ground with a muffled thump.

"My god…" I whispered as I inched closer to the two of them, "is that a –"

"Firebolt? Yeah." said Ron with a grin.

"Can I touch it?" I asked.

"Go for it," chuckled Harry. I ran my hand along the polished handle in wonder.

"These babies haven't even come out in the States," I drew my hand back and admired the broom. "Who's it from?"

"Dunno. There wasn't a note." That was odd. I pursed my lips, then shrugged.

"Well it's freaking awesome, regardless. I couldn't bring my old Nimbus 980 –"

"You fly?" interrupted Ron.

"Yeah. I don't play Quidditch though."

We sat in silence for a moment, when the portrait hole swung open and Hermione and McGonagall entered. I had a feeling that it wasn't a good thing that the latter was there, so I backed away from the two of them and sat back down on the armchair I had been previously occupying, picking up my discarded book in the process. Hermione followed in my footsteps and sat at a sofa nearby, preferring to hide her face in the random book she had grabbed off the coffee table. That wasn't a good sign. I turned my attention back to the Professor and Harry.

"- I daresay Madam Hooch and Professor Flitwick will strip it down -"

"Strip it down?" repeated Ron in disbelief.

"It shouldn't take more than a few weeks," said Professor McGonagall. "You will have it back if we are sure it is jinx-free."

"There's nothing wrong with it!" said Harry shakily. Poor kid. "Honestly, Professor –"

"You can't know that, Potter," said Professor McGonagall, quite kindly, "not until you've flown it, at any rate, and I'm afraid that is out of the question until we are certain that it has not been tampered with. I shall keep you informed."

Professor McGonagall turned on her heel and carried the Firebolt out of the portrait hole, which closed behind her. Harry stood staring after her, with a tin of broom polish still clutched in his hands. Ron, however, rounded on Hermione.

"What did you go running to McGonagall for?

Hermione threw her book aside. She was still pink in the face, but stood up and faced Ron defiantly.

"Because I thought – and Professor McGonagall agrees with me – that that broom was probably sent to Harry by Sirius Black!"

Well, shit.

"Reducto,"

A chip crumbled away from the brick I was supposed to be blasting. I groaned and narrowed my eyes at it.

"Reducto?" Still nothing.

"REducTO!" Not even dust.

"reDUCto!" Why do I bother?

Beside me, Ingrid was hard at work, blasting through her tenth brick for the period.

"REDUCTO!" the thing splintered and turned powdery. Professor Lupin walked by with a wide smile on his tired face.

"Nice work, Ingrid," he turned to me and cocked his head.

"Still on your first one?" I huffed and nodded. "From what I hear, Ivy, you're pretty handy with a wand. You're the top of your class in Transfiguration, right?"

Ingrid chimed in for me, "Oh yes! She's bloody brilliant in that class. Vanished her kitten like it was nothing."

"And remember Snape's face when she brewed a perfect batch of Pepperup potion?" piped Fred from behind me.

"Or that time in Charms when she silenced that frog within a matter of seconds?" added George.

I blushed from all of the compliments, ducking my head. "See, Ivy? If you could do all of that, there's no reason you shouldn't be able to perform this jinx." Lupin smiled at me encouragingly, and I nodded.

I looked back at my brick and glared at it. Maybe it would help if I imagined someone that I dislike…

Picturing my brick as Lenore, with her make-up laden face sneering at me, I pointed my wand at the thing.

"REDUCTO!"

It blasted away into nothing, leaving a small pile of red powder as the only evidence that it had ever been there.

Lupin beamed at me, and Ingrid squealed. Fred and George clapped their hands and hooted appreciatively.

"There it is! Good job," he said. He glanced at the clock, and returned to the front of the room.

"Alright everyone, you've all been working hard, and I have a feeling that you're all starving." The class all nodded in agreement, and Lupin smiled, "well then I won't keep you from lunch, class dismissed!"

The chairs all scraped against the stone floor as all the students filed out of the classroom. I waved Ingrid off to lunch, promising to meet up with her before we had Charms. I approached Lupin with a small smile and stopped in front of the desk where he was gathering papers.

"Yes, Ivy?"

I took a deep breath, "Sir, I completely understand if you don't have time for this, but I was hoping you could help me a little more with some of the offensive spells we learned this year?"

"Oh, you mean additional lessons?"

I nodded and blushed a little. "If you can't, it's alright. I'm sure Ingrid would help me, it's just that she isn't very good at explaining things in ways that make sense to me."

Not much of what that girl says makes sense.

"No, I understand completely. I once had a friend like that…" he trailed off and averted his eyes. "I do have time on Wednesday evening, around 7. If that'll work, I'm happy to help you out. It's my job after all,"

"Wednesday is absolutely perfect! Thank you so much Professor," I said.

"Don't worry about it,"

I left his room with a good feeling about the spells I had been having some trouble with. Maybe there's hope for me after all.

**A/N: Chapter 4!**

**So, I know this isn't the best fic out there. It's probably far from it, but I'm fairly new to writing, and I'm loving this experience.**

**I would really appreciate some feedback; even just saying you like it is super helpful to me. I'm still learning, and telling me what you think will definitely help improve the story.**

**To everyone that has liked or followed, thank you so much! It does mean a lot to me that you took the time to read my story, and stick with it.**

**Until next time!**


	5. I Felt My Life Begin

Chapter 5: _I Felt my Life Begin_

_George_

"OH MY GOD!"

I spilled ink all over the parchment I was scribbling prank ideas on. Exchanging a look with Fred, we turned our attention to the girl's dormitory from where angry yelling could be heard. After an extremely colorful string of curses floated down, I raised my eyebrows at Fred, who looked sheepish.

"What did you do?" I asked him. My question was answered, however, when Ivy stormed down the steps looking understandably murderous.

The common room slowly quieted to watch the spectacle that was unfolding.

"FRED WEASLEY?!" she shrieked. Angelina pointed her over to us with a grin playing on her lips.

Across from me, Fred looked panicked and cringed when the now green-haired girl jabbed a finger into his chest.

His eyes grew as wide as saucers, for some reason. Usually, angry reactions to pranks didn't faze him; but if I had to be honest, Ivy was terrifying when she was mad. And a little adorable.

Especially the way her forehead creased and her nose flared and she got all flushed –

Dear Merlin, I need to stop getting all sappy.

"I cannot BELIEVE you turned my hair GREEN!"

"I'm not Fred, I'm George!" he said quickly. I glared at him, and he shrugged apologetically at me.

"Don't try that bullshit with me, Fred! You know I can tell the two of you apart," She snarled.

Fred tried to school his features into a feeble attempt at a grin while she glared at him.

The common room seemed to be holding its breath, waiting for Ivy to just explode. But she didn't.

Instead, her lips twitched, then she let a bubble of laughter escape, before collapsing to the ground in shrieking laughter.

"You should have seen your face, Freddie!" She cried, tears of mirth streaming down her face.

Everyone watched her with confusion as she doubled over.

"You're not mad at him?" Ginny piped up from across the room with a knowing smile.

"How could I be mad? This is hilarious!" she lifted a lock of lime colored hair and giggled at it. She screwed up her lips and tapped her cheek with her finger. "Although, next time aim for a more flattering color… like purple," Her eyes lit up at the thought, "or blue!"

Fred's jaw dropped and I finally burst into laughter, followed by the rest of the room.

Ivy Miller just successfully pranked us.

Ivy's hair finally faded back into the warm brown it usually was within a few minutes, and she went back up to dormitory after reenacting Fred's reactions for the entire common room, much to Fred's chagrin.

Ginny walked over to me with a huge smile, "I'm not blind you know," she said, "I see the way you look at her."

I raised an eyebrow at her, "Meaning?"

She looked at me for a moment, "I like her. Don't muck this up, alright?"

"What?"

"Don't. Muck. This. Up. Promise me,"

"I promise,"

Nodding her head, she crossed her arms with a small smile playing at her lips, "I see the way she looks at you too."

Wait, what?

What did that mean?

Before I got a chance to ask her, she was gone, and then Fred and I were some of the only students left in the common room.

He sank back into an armchair and stared at me.

"What?" I asked him.

"Just figuring out a way to get you and Ivy together."

I rolled my eyes at him.

"I've got it!" he cried as he snapped his fingers, "Make her laugh! Girls love it when guys are funny."

"Are you implying that I'm not funny?" I arched an eyebrow.

"You already make her laugh; make her laugh even more." He suggested.

"Bugger off, Fred."

"I'm only trying to help. Why are you so cranky all of a sudden?"

"It's just, you keep attempting to 'get me and Ivy together', but you never consider the possibility that she doesn't fancy me."

"Merlin, you are so bloody dense."

I glared at him and stood up, "I'm off to bed."

I'd been sleeping fitfully; tossing and turning and tangling myself in the sheets. A muffled thud jolted me out of my thoughts. It sounded like it had come from the common room, so I tip-toed down the dormitory stairs. In my haste to find out the source of the sound, I didn't notice that not only Fred's, but also Lee's bed was empty. Benjamin had retired at 8; he seems to think that if he tries to function on less than 10 hours of sleep, he'll die from exhaustion. I seriously worry for the state of his children. That is, if he ever snatches a bird that'll put up with his shit.

Although, if Percy managed to do it, why couldn't he?

I peeked into the common room and raised my eyebrows wordlessly. Huddled in a circle was Fred, Lee, Angelina, Alicia, and Ingrid. Lee was cramming sandwiches off a large platter and into his mouth, while Angelina and Fred were glaring at each other.

Ingrid was the only member of the group that wasn't seated. She paced back and forth in front of them, with her hands gesturing wildly in front of her. Alicia seemed to be asleep, although no one had noticed yet.

"Acid Pop and Pepper Imp, you're both wrong! Now will you can it?! We have more important things to worry ab – Sugar Quill!" she snapped in front of Alicia's face impatiently. Alicia sat up with a start and looked around wildly.

"How are you the lookout if you're never actually looking?"

"Sorry Captain Cauldron Cake."

"That's President Captain Cauldron Cake, to you."

I took this as my queue to leave.

I have never been so confused in my entire life. What in the name of Merlin's pants did I just overhear?

_Ivy_

Wednesday night came much faster than I thought it would, and with it came the tutoring session that Professor Lupin had promised me.

I entered his classroom a few minutes before I was supposed to, with my nose buried in a roll of parchment. Maisie had lent me her History of Magic notes so that I could cram for a test that we apparently had tomorrow. I've never liked or been good at history. Not at Clarke and certainly not here. My Muggle History professor was actually pretty interesting, but it's not been a class that's kept me interested, and thus, I don't try. Memorizing dates and names and countless facts is much duller than learning how to cast spells and brew potions.

"The sword of Gryffindor is alleged to have originally belonged to Ragnuk the First…" I murmured to myself as I flipped the parchment over and scanned the rest of the page.

I snorted and shook my head, "Hodrod the Horny-Handed? What kind of a name is – oh, hello Professor,"

"Ivy," he said with a smirk, "have a good dinner?"

"Yes, thank you,"

He nodded and clapped his hands once. "Alright, let's get to it then."

He set a series of objects in front of me and asked me to perform all of the charms we had learned thus far in the year.

"That's good, very good. The only problem areas that I see right now is with your body-bind curse and your disarming. It's nearly curfew; why don't we meet again next week and work on honing those two down?"

"That sounds great Professor! I'll see you," I gathered my things and left the room at a brisk pace, mindlessly making my way to Gryffindor tower, when suddenly, I tripped over something and landed on my hand painfully. An echoing crack rang through the hallway, and someone beside me stirred with a groan.

"_Shit_, what was tha-Ivy!"

"George?" I said, sitting up and rubbing a sore spot on my head.

"Oh Merlin! Ivy, are you alright?" a figure bent over me and frowned in concern.

"Ingrid?"

"What was that noise? Is everyone okay?" Alicia appeared from a neighboring hallway while Angelina and Fred threw open the door of a broom cupboard and came barreling out. The latter glared at Ingrid, and Alicia crouched beside me with her brow creased.

"I think she's broken her wrist," said Alicia. She pointed at the hand that I landed on, and I noticed that it was twisted in a very unnatural way. Ingrid swore colorfully and George blinked at them in confusion. He seemed to not have noticed the small trickle of blood that now ran out of his nose, until it reached his lip. He wiped his finger across it and winced.

"Alright, you two need to get to the hospital wing," said Angelina. I nodded and tried to sit up, making the mistake of putting weight onto my injured wrist.

"Fuck!" I hissed in pain. Fred snorted and helped up George, who was trying to stem his bleeding.

We walked to the hospital wing in an awkward silence. Something seemed to have transpired among Ingrid, Fred, and Angelina, because they continued to glare at each other. Madam Pomfrey was stocking a cabinet with vials when we arrived, and catching sight of me and George, she instantly shooed the other four out and pushed me into a freshly made bed. George soon followed, and was tucked into the one beside me, then given a potion reduce the swelling and bleeding in his nose.

I, on the other hand, was not so lucky. Where George only had to endure a mouthful of potion, I had to drink three whole glasses of some lumpy, purple concoction that tasted like wet cardboard and sour milk.

My wrist healed quickly; Madam Pomfrey continued to mutter about some poor boy who had somehow vanished all the bones in his arm last year, as she administered the nasty potion. George and I were ordered to spend the night in the wing, even though both of our injuries were minor and completely fixed.

Ah, well.

I sighed and turned on my side to face George.

"What were you doing out so late?" I asked.

"Fred told me to meet him in the kitchens," sighed George

"You know where the kitchens are?"

He raised his eyebrow at me.

"Of course you do. Wait, then why was Fred with Angelina in that broom closet?"

He shrugged, "They were probably snogging or something."

Madam Pomfrey extinguished the lights in the hospital wing and in her quarters, throwing us into darkness.

A few minutes passed while I tossed and turned; trying to get comfortable on the mattress.

"Ivy?" whispered George.

"Yeah?"

"Sleep well,"

I let out a breathy giggle, "You too."

_Fred_

"That was probably the most terribly executed plan in all of history. Merlin, Ivy actually broke her wrist!"

Ingrid sighed and put her face in her hands. "I know. I thought maybe we could get them to literally _fall_ for each other…"

Lee rolled his eyes as he stuffed food into his mouth. Angelina grinned and sat up on the sofa.

"At least one good thing came out of this," she said.

"What's that?" I asked.

"George and Ivy are alone in the hospital wing."

Ingrid cackled and clapped her hands, "See! I know my plan wasn't that bad!"

"Ivy's wrist got broken, remember?"

Ingrid glared at everyone then collapsed back on the couch. "I have a feeling that Operation Fizzing Whizzbee isn't very effective."

"No,"

"Not really,"

"Absolutely not,"

"Is anyone going to eat that last sandwich?"

"Then I guess Operation Fizzing Whizzbee is hereby… disbanded. Meeting adjourned." Ingrid sighed tragically and trudged toward the dormitories. Alicia rolled her eyes at the tall girl's theatrics and shook her head.

At least no one'll call me 'Acid Pop' again.

_Ivy_

"How does this make sense to anyone?" I muttered under my breath. The scratching of quills and occasional sniffs could be heard around the Arithmancy classroom. I stared down at my worksheet in utter befuddlement.

Professor Vector wandered around, examining people's work and making little marks on the papers. Fred, who sat beside me, shrugged with slightly panicky eyes. I bit my lip dipped the tip of the elegant quill in my hand in my inkpot.

"Carry the two, and then add it to the product of the magic square…?" The equation made absolutely no sense to me, and I continued to try and work it out, when something poked me in the back.

"_Divide it by the product_," whispered George from the desk behind me.

Divide it by the-oh! That makes perfect sense, actually.

"The rest of the equations are due tomorrow. Class dismissed," Professor Vector waved her hand and busied herself behind her desk. George sidled up to me, and waited patiently while I gathered my things.

Alicia, Fred, and Lee all left the classroom, each sending a varying facial expression our way; ranging from smug, to borderline suggestive.

Dear god.

"Hey, George?" I asked after a moment.

"Yeah?"

"You're pretty good at Arithmancy, right?"

"I guess so, why?"

"Would you tutor me?" I asked. I felt heat rush to my face and I glanced at the floor in embarrassment.

"Sure," he agreed with a grin.

I opened my mouth to say something and closed it stupidly. What was it with this boy that made me go all tongue tied?

"Do you want to start tonight?" he asked.

I nodded and he smiled, "Brilliant,"

That night, I lounged patiently in the common room, and waited for George to get back from Quidditch practice. Not even minutes later, he trudged in, looking freshly showered and clean.

I smiled at him and sat up from the sofa with a stretch.

"How was practice?"

"Best one yet," said George, as he dragged his heavy looking bag behind him. "Wood's going crazy with the whole 'it's my last year as Captain,' thing, and now that Harry's got his Firebolt back –"

"He got it back?" I beamed.

"Yeah. Caught the snitch within 10 seconds –"

"Damn." I've never even heard of that. The Seekers at Clarke weren't very good. I think the fastest Quidditch game we ever had lasted around 45 minutes…

"I've got a good feeling about tomorrow's match." he grinned and pulled out his book, "Alright, so, Arithmancy…"

An hour later, I was _way_ less confused, and finishing up the assignment that Vector had given us. I scribbled madly on the parchment, as George tried to balance a quill on his adorable nose. Glancing up from my work, I watched him for a moment.

God, I can't focus with him sitting there being so distracting.

My quill slipped from my fingers and I groaned. George and I leaned down and groped around on the floor for it, both reaching the feathered thing at the same time.

I looked up at George and met his bright blue eyes. With a sudden swooping feeling, I realized just how close we were.

Our faces inched even closer, close enough for me to feel his breath wisp across my face. He brought his hand up to brush my cheek and my breathing slowed.

Time stopped, it was only George. George's lips; George's eyes; George's spattering of freckles; George –

The clock on the wall chimed 7.

With a start, he stood up and handed me my quill; his face bright red, and his eyes averted.

"I… I should get to bed. Quidditch match in the morning…"

It was another hour before I could bring myself to even function properly. I walked numbly to my dormitory and sank on my bed.

"Ivy? What's wrong?" Ingrid knelt beside me and waved her hand in front of my face, "Angelina!"

The Chaser leapt off her bed nimbly and crossed the floor to where Ingrid sat.

"Ivy, I will not hesitate to slap you. Tell us what's happened," she demanded.

"We…"

"Ivy!" cried Ingrid.

"He almost…" I trailed off again.

"Merlin forgive me," Angelina drew her hand back and slapped me sharply across the face.

"What was that for?!" I shouted and clutched my cheek.

"Ivy, focus! What's happened?"

"George and I almost kissed," I said quietly.

Ingrid screamed. Angelina rolled her eyes and turned back to me.

"Then what's the problem? What do you mean by almost? It's been obvious to the rest of us that he's been crazy about you since the day you got here. I don't know why you've been refusing to believe it for so long." She said.

"I haven't been –"

"Don't even try," threatened Angelina.

"Yeah, Ivy. I don't know why you're so reluctant to admit your feelings for him out loud. I still haven't heard you say it." Ingrid pointed out.

"But –"

"No buts. Do you like George or don't you?"

"I do," I muttered.

"What was that?" asked Angelina.

"Fine! I like George. I like him so much more than I ever thought I would, and it's driving me crazy!"

"Then why are you so terrified of the idea of –" said Ingrid.

"Because he's one of my best friends!" I interrupted, "What if it doesn't work out, and we end up hating each other?! What if we stop talking and –"

"What are you _so _bloody afraid of?! What if it does work out? Isn't that worth the risk? Gods, you just feel the need to over-complicate everything! When will the two of you wake up and realize that you're perfect for each other?!" raged Angelina.

I fell silent and studied the scratched floorboards around my bedpost. Angelina and Ingrid both left me alone in their annoyance.

Was it really worth the risk?

The next day, I walked down to the Quidditch pitch with Ingrid. She seemed to have cooled off from last night and was back to her usual bouncy self.

The game went off without a hitch. Harry was a blur on his Firebolt; it was dizzying trying to watch him race around the field. I very nearly had a heart attack when he performed a few death-defying dives. Suddenly, Ingrid gripped my arm and pointed at the grassy pitch. Three tall, hooded, dementors all looked straight up at Harry, who shot a blinding silver spell at them; bowling them over.

He closed his fingers over the small, struggling Snitch.

The referee's whistle sounded; the Gryffindor team all surrounded Harry in midair and was hugging him so hard that I was afraid he'd fall off his broom. Everyone in the stands was screaming and celebrating the Gryffindor victory.

Ron Weasley shot out of his seat, followed by Hermione and a group of third years. The rest of us followed; eager to make it onto the field to celebrate alongside the team.

I stood in the crowd, my eyes searching for someone in particular. I reached out and pulled Angelina over to me.

"I'm sorry," I said.

She merely grinned, "Ivy, it's fine. Now go and congratulate George."

I nodded and she shoved me into him with a wink, before sauntering off into the mass.

"Congrats!" I shouted above the din.

He smirked and grabbed my waist, spinning me around in a loose circle. Chuckling, he set me down.

"Thank you," he winked.

He glanced to the right and his face brightened. "Come on, Harry!" said George, fighting his way over to the raven haired boy. "Party! Gryffindor common room, now!"

"Right," said Harry, with an enormous grin, he and the rest of the team led the way, still in their scarlet robes, out of the stadium and back up to the castle.

The party went on all day and well into the night. Fred and George dragged me off down some secret passageway to Hogsmeade to get 'provisions'. We were gone for a couple of hours and, after a quick stop in the kitchens (which was way cooler than it sounded), returned with armfuls of bottles of butterbeer, pumpkin fizz, and several bags full of Honeydukes sweets.

"How did you do that?" squealed Angelina as George started throwing Peppermint Toads into the crowd.

Fred winked at me and turned to talk to Harry. I settled myself down at a table to watch Fred and George start to juggle butterbeer bottles.

Lee perched next to me with a sly smile.

"Hello Lee," I said.

"So," he said, "I have it on very good authority that you fancy yourself a George Weasley,"

My eyes grew wide and I glared at Angelina who was seated in the middle of a group of admirers.

"No, Angelina didn't tell me. And it wasn't Ingrid either,"

"Then how –"

"It just so happens that I was on my way down from the fourth year girl's dorm –"

"How –"

"Ask me no questions and I'll tell you no lies. As I was saying, I passed by the fifth year dorm, and I heard the _most_ interesting thing."

I realized what he was talking about and looked away from him.

"I have to agree with Angelina. It's worth the risk." With that he stood up and made his way to a gaggle of girls.

It's worth the risk.

I steeled myself, summoned up as much courage as I could, and marched across the common room to where George was now doling out boxes of Chocolate Frogs and Fudge Flies. He grinned when he caught sight of me and handed me a package of sweets.

"How d'you like the party?"

"It's great, uh, can I talk to you? Alone?"

He raised an eyebrow and nodded. I turned away from him and led him out of the common room and out of the portrait hole, still clutching a box of fudge flies.

"So what's this all about?"

"Last night –" I began.

"Oh," George turned a light shade of red that reminded me of a tomato.

I took a deep breath and jumped straight in,

"I must be completely _insane_ for doing this, but… I like you. A lot. Actually, I like you way too much for it to be okay, and I've been telling myself that it's just a phase and that I'll get over you at some point, but the more time I spend with you, the more I realize that I don't want to. I want to feel like I'm going to burst every damn time you smile, or do something adorable and I have to talk myself out of just kissing you whenever I see you, because I've been so afraid to lose this amazing friendship that we have. I have to keep telling myself that this is worth the risk, and I get it if you don't feel the same way. Really, I do. I know that if you don't, I've completely thrown this whole thing down the drain,"

"Ivy,"

"I just don't want to leave with any regrets. I'm only going to be here for a couple more months and I couldn't live with myself if I didn't take this chance –"

"Why would you ever think that I don't feel the same way? I have trouble sleeping some nights because I can't get your laugh out of my head, or stop thinking about the way your eyes just light up at the littlest thing, or how completely beautiful you are, even when you're angry. I've never met anyone like you."

All of these beautiful things just kept pouring out of his mouth, and none of it registered because I launched myself at him and all at once, he swept me into his arms –

His mouth brushed mine almost tentatively at first, then firmly as I kissed him back.

It was delicate, and sweet, and innocent; his lips tasted like peppermint and he smelled… clean. Like the rain. The hallway was silent, then full of pounding noise as the portrait hole swung open again.

"FINALLY!" someone shrieked. Alicia was standing there with a bottle of butterbeer and a relieved look on her face.

The music fell quiet and then everyone was cat-calling and hooting and cheering.

"I swear, watching you two dodge around each other was getting seriously old." said Alicia, as she turned back around and let the portrait swing shut.

George set me down and ran a hand through his hair sheepishly. "So, do you want to, er, go out? With me? On a date or something?"

"Yes, I would love to." I smiled.

"Brilliant,"

**A/N: CHAPTER 5! Oh my goodness!**

**So, it bears **_**some**_** resemblance to Interlude, but I've obviously changed quite a bit. I'm working on the next chapter, and it will be posted as soon as I finalize it, but exam week is approaching, so I can't promise anything. Chapter 6 WILL be posted by at least the last week of May. Maybe before.**

**REVIEW!**

**Until next time!**


	6. The Harbor Becomes the Sea

**A/N: Still don't own Harry Potter.**

* * *

Chapter 6: _The Harbor Becomes the Sea_

_Ivy_

"Brilliant,"

George and I stood there grinning at each other for God knows how long, my brown eyes searching his blue. I want to drown in those things, they're like the deep end of a pool.

Another burst of music filtered out of the common room, and Fred stepped out with a giggling blonde girl clinging to his forearm.

"Whoops," breathed the teetering girl, her eyes flew between Fred and George, then another giggle escaped her lips, "I'm seeing double!"

I pressed my lips together to suppress my smile, meeting George's eyes with an amused look. Fred scratched the back of his neck sheepishly.

"It's alright, um, what's your name?" I asked her.

She guffawed and stuck her tongue out, "Bra – Bara – Brabara!"

"Barbara?"

"That's the ticket!" she screamed, I bit my lip painfully to keep from laughing at the obviously drunk girl.

"We were just going in," I managed to spit out; George threw a wink to his twin, then followed me into the common room. As the portrait swung shut, I exploded in laughter, along with George.

"Oh, it hurts too much," I gasped and clutched my ribs as my eyes watered. George was thrown across an armchair and had his face buried in his hands. His shoulders shook from the force of his chuckles.

I've never heard a laugh quite like his. That was another thing that set him apart from Fred. Fred's laughs were deep, booming things that rang. They were often contagious, and hardly ever contained, but George's were different. Like a burbling stream, they were quiet, merry, and personal. The kind of laughter that made you want to join in on your own. The kind of laughter that made you wish that you were there, sharing in the fun.

"Brabara!" he mimicked with a wrinkled nose, and a snicker. This only fueled my uncontrollable, and probably unattractive, chortling.

The party finally wound down when Professor McGonagall turned up in her tartan dressing gown and hair net at one in the morning, to insist that we all go to bed. Once we were in the dorms, Ingrid and Angelina threw their arms around me and danced around.

"Yes! They're together! You owe me 7 bloody sickles, Maisie!" cried Alicia.

"You were betting on us?" I shrieked indignantly.

Maisie blushed and burrowed under her covers. Alicia and the rest of the girls giggled and also clambered into their large four-poster beds; I sighed and mimicked them, cocooning myself into about three layers of blankets.

I tossed and turned for hours, it seemed like. I was ready to fall asleep, but I couldn't get comfortable enough to finally drift off. I was sorely tempted to check under my mattress for a pea, and I entertained the idea for a minute or so, when a commotion jolted me awake –

"AAARGH! NOOO!"

I heard bed hangings get drawn to the side, "Did anyone hear that?" asked Ingrid.

"Yeah," I called out and shuffled myself off the bed, "Let's go see what it is,"

Alicia silently joined us, pulling on a robe and yawning into the back of her hand quietly. We crept down the stairs cautiously, finding the common room filling up with a few boys; most of them were huddled around a shock of red hair, a boy I recognized to be George's younger brother, and murmuring confusedly. George spotted me across the common room and fought his way over to me with a smile.

"I'm telling you, I saw him!"

Ingrid raised her eyebrows at Alicia and me in bemusement. Fred popped up out of nowhere with a bright smile and twinkling eyes, like he hadn't just been asleep (which he probably wasn't), carrying on about restarting the party.

"Perce - Sirius Black!" said Ron faintly. "In our dormitory! With a knife! Woke me up!"

It was like someone had cast a silencing spell on the entire room. Everyone was holding their breath with wide eyes.

"Nonsense!" said Percy, looking thoroughly off-guard and lost, "You had too much to eat, Ron - had a nightmare -"

"I'm telling you -"

"Now, really, enough's enough!"

Professor McGonagall had stormed back into the common room, slamming the portrait behind her and staring furiously around.

"I am delighted that Gryffindor won the match, but this is getting ridiculous! Percy, I expected better of you!"

"I certainly didn't authorize this, Professor!" said Percy with a puffed out chest, "I was just telling them all to get back to bed! My brother Ron here had a nightmare -"

"IT WASN'T A NIGHTMARE!" Ron yelled. "PROFESSOR, I WOKE UP, AND SIRIUS BLACK WAS STANDING OVER ME, HOLDING A KNIFE!"

_What?_ I grabbed George's hand and squeezed it firmly.

"Don't be ridiculous, Weasley, how could he possibly have gotten through the portrait hole?"

"Ask him!" said Ron, pointing a shaking finger at the back of Sir Cadogan's picture. "Ask him if he saw -"

With a skeptical eyebrow raised, an expression that would have been hilarious in another circumstance, Professor McGonagall pushed the portrait back open and went outside. The whole common room listened in quietly. "Sir Cadogan, did you just let a man enter Gryffindor Tower?"

"Certainly, good lady!" cried Sir Cadogan.

There was a stunned silence, both inside and outside the common room.

"You - you did?" said Professor McGonagall. "But - but the password!"

"He had 'em!" said Sir Cadogan proudly. "Had the whole week's, my lady! Read 'em off a little piece of paper!"

Professor McGonagall pulled herself back through the portrait hole to face the terrified crowd. She was white as chalk.

"Which person," she said with a dangerous tremor in her voice, "which abysmally foolish person wrote down this week's passwords and left them lying around?"

God bless this kid's soul; I watched with wide eyes as a mousy third year boy raised his trembling hand slowly in the air.

* * *

_George_

Have I ever mentioned how long it's been since I've seen the sun?

Five months.

Five whole months of overcast and rainy days. This morning, the sunlight woke me up. The sunlight! I was giddy to the point of annoying Fred. He didn't understand why I was just as deliriously happy at seven in the morning as I was at five in the evening.

"It's just a bit of sunlight! No one else is this excited about it," he grumbled.

At that very moment, Ivy came leaping up to us with a wide smile on her face.

"Isn't this weather absolutely gorgeous?" She asked, then twirled a little bit, "I'm meeting Ingrid in the library, so I'll see you later," after bobbing away from us, Fred shook his head and turned to me.

"I stand corrected," he grinned as he flopped back onto the sofa and kicked his feet up onto the coffee table nearby.

That weekend brought with it another trip to Hogsmeade, and my first date with Ivy. We agreed to meet in the common room before breakfast, and so I sat on my favorite overstuffed armchair and waited for her to descend from the girl's dormitories. I feel unnecessarily nervous. What if this whole thing goes south?

"George?" I jumped out of my seat and spun around wildly. With a timid grin, Ivy tucked a strand of curly hair behind her ear. "You ready to head down to breakfast?"

I nodded and offered her my hand, "You look amazelous," I grimaced, "I mean, you look fantastic,"

She cocked an eyebrow and grasped my outstretched palm, "Amazelous?"

I felt my face burn, but I beamed and lead her out of the common room, "a mixture between amazing and marvelous."

"Ah," she smiled and glanced up at me, "well then, you look amazelous as well," we made our way into the great hall. This won't be so bad then. It's just like it usually is, only we'll be on a date.

I'm on a date with Ivy Miller.

I couldn't stop the beginnings of a grin. "What?" chuckled Ivy as she took a seat beside me at the long Gryffindor table.

"I'm just really excited to be on a date with you," I confessed. She blushed and squeezed the hand she was still holding.

"Me too,"

I made eye contact with Ginny down the table. She winked at me and went back to shoveling food into her mouth. She was a Weasley, through and through.

Ivy and I made it to Hogsmeade without trouble; she immediately dragged me into Honeydukes with the widest smile I have ever seen in my entire life. As she pushed her way through the crowd, I got a good look at her. She was wearing a floaty blue top over a pair of shorts. Fred, who happened to be browsing through an aisle nearby with a girl on the Hufflepuff Quidditch team, caught my appraisal of Ivy and winked at me with a cheeky grin on his face.

I don't think I've ever noticed before, but Ivy's legs are rather shapely. It's a nice contrast to some of the stick-like girls that attended our school. She glanced over her shoulder at me and smiled prettily, the small dimple on her right cheek revealing itself like it did on rare occasions.

"Do you want to go splitsies on a box of chocolate? I thought it would be nice to share it," she offered and held out a small box of truffles.

"Er, splitsies?"

She blushed and shifted her weight onto her other foot, "Sorry, American thing, um… splitsies is when you split the cost of something,"

"Oh. Sure," I said and grabbed the box on the counter, setting down a sickle beside Ivy's.

Now armed with the box of chocolates, we wandered through the streets of Hogsmeade, fishing out pieces of the candy and sampling the different flavors. Within minutes, we had stumbled upon a substantially less crowded part of the village. Cottages lined the cobbled street, and a small gray cat ran across the road.

"This is a change from High Street…" she commented on the lack of people crisscrossing the road.

"You can say that again," I said as we traveled along. Suddenly, we were hit with one of the most heavenly scents I have ever smelled in my entire life. A quick glance at Ivy proved that she had smelled it too.

"What in the world is that?" murmured Ivy with a look of pure bliss on her face.

"I have no idea," I said, pulling her along the road in a hurry to find the source of the smell.

I came to a stop in front of an open kissing gate, and a gravel path that led to a small cottage with a bright green door, and a sign planted into the shrubs that advertised a bakery. Smoke curled invitingly from the chimney, and an open sign hung on the door. Ivy and I entered the small shop cautiously, with intrigued expressions. A matronly woman at the front of the store beamed at the sight of us.

"Sebastian!" she yelled in excitement, wiping her floury hands onto her apron. A smudge of batter was visible on one of her rounded cheeks, and her graying hair was tucked into a messy bun that was held together with a wand.

A graying man with wrinkles around his eyes poked his head from behind a curtain. "Yes Mary?"

"Look! Students!" she exclaimed as she bustled out from behind the counter and approached us. "It's been quite some time since we've had students in here! Please, sit!" she directed us to a tiny round table with two chairs beside it. Ivy sat down and giggled a little bit. I followed her and inhaled the rich, honeyed scent of baking bread and sugary cakes with pleasure, glancing around in interest. The walls were littered with paintings and photographs of people, all of whom waved merrily at us. A roaring fire filled the room with a warm glow. The wood of the table beneath my hands was rough and worn and scratched from years and years of mugs scraping across it.

"What would you dears like? We've got scones, biscuits, tea," offered Mary with a smile.

Ivy's eyes lit up and she exchanged a look with me, "Do you have hot chocolate?"

Mary smiled, "We do,"

"Could we get two hot chocolates?"

Mary nodded and bustled off into what must have been the kitchen. I turned to Ivy and chuckled at the giddy look on her face. Not moments later, Mary returned with a steaming tray that held our drinks.

"Let me know if I can get you anything else," she chirped and set down the foamy hot chocolate. Ivy nodded her thanks and pulled the mug closer to her. Cradling it close to her body, she took a tentative sip. She set the mug down and swallowed carefully.

"How is it?" I asked. She held up a finger and closed her eyes. I waited for a moment, then Ivy popped her eyes open and grinned.

"That has to be some of the tastiest hot chocolate I've ever had,"

I raised my eyebrow at her speculatively. Obviously she'd never had my mother's hot chocolate. Wanting to test out her claim myself, I raised the mug to my lips and drank deeply. Immediately, I was hit with a myriad of flavor; rich, creamy, sweet, smooth. An odd taste lingered on my lips and tongue. I hesitated, then recognized what it was.

"Is that?"

"Cinnamon, yes."

"Huh." I felt like I was cheating on my mother's hot chocolate.

Ivy was looking at me expectantly with the mug still held between her hands. I grinned at her and took another gulp.

"It is pretty good…" I admitted.

"Ha!" she crowed.

We spent the next hour talking and laughing, Mary only interrupted us once to clear away our long empty mugs. After thanking the owners of the bakery profusely, and promising to stop by the next Hogsmeade weekend, we made our way back to the castle hand-in-hand.

* * *

_Ivy_

I spent the next week or so with this goofy smile plastered across my face. I was found grinning to myself in the library by Angelina.

"What's got you so happy?" she asked as she plopped herself into a chair across from me and smirked.

I sighed and put my head in hands. Angelina raised an eyebrow with an amused look on her face.

"Is it George?" she asked. I nodded and felt heat rush to my cheeks suddenly. She shook her head in exasperation then stood up abruptly. "I need to find a book for divination…" she muttered something that sounded rather angry under her breath about her 'pointless dream journal' and stalked off toward a section of colorful and spangled books nearby. I rolled my eyes and turned back to the Astronomy textbook I had been trying (and failing) to absorb. I slammed the book shut in annoyance and huffed, stretching out across the sofa.

"Need some help there?" asked an unfamiliar voice. I looked up to find one of the other exchange students standing above me with an amused look on his face. It was Mr. I-Drooled-All-Over-You-And-Didn't-Have-The-Decency-To-Apologize.

"Pardon?" I asked, sitting up. Drooly McDroolFace circled around the couch and came to a stop in front of me.

"You just looked like you needed help with your Astronomy…"

"Oh…" I was confused. This was the most I'd spoken to one of the other exchange students in a long time; I couldn't stand Lenore or Ross, but I hadn't ever really said much to Spittle Sleeper other than 'hello' on the train…

I feel terrible for not remembering his name.

"Um, Ivy right? I'm Max," he stuck his hand out and looked at me expectantly.

That's right! Max was his name. I took his hand and shook it. "Nice to officially meet you then, Max. And some help with this would be great, to be honest…"

It wouldn't do to snub a guy when I barely knew him, let alone one that I exchanged less than thirty words with. He settled in beside me and pulled out his identical copy of _Astronomy of the 21__st__ Century_.

"So, what's got you in such a fuss?" I suddenly remembered that his school, Goodwin, was in Georgia. That explained the slight southern accent I heard.

I gave a nervous laugh, "All of it…"

Astronomy might be my worst subject, next to History of Magic. Or Herbology. God knows that plants hate me…

He lifted his eyebrows in surprise, yet said nothing. "Well then, let's start from the beginning."

An hour or so later, and after being joined briefly by Angelina before she headed off to Quidditch practice, I was sufficiently caught up on most of what I needed to know for the fast approaching O. . I sighed and leaned back on the dark brown sofa.

"Do you like Hogwarts more than Goodwin?" I asked him after a beat.

"I was excited to come, but it's a little _too_ exciting here for me, I think." He admitted, brushing a hand through his dark hair, "What about you? Do you like it here more than… Clarke, right?"

I nodded and paused. I feel… _different_ here – at Hogwarts.

In the short time I've been here, with the people, the landscape, everything; it had become much more of a home to me than Clarke or the comfortable condo where I lived with my family. Of course, I love my parents, nothing will ever change that, but it never felt right at Clarke. It was like I was on a loop everyday over there. Nothing got exciting, nothing livened up my days. Go to class. Do homework. Hang out with Maggie. Rinse and repeat.

But Hogwarts… Hogwarts kept things interesting.

"I do," I said with conviction. Max rose an eyebrow, and rested his ankle on his thigh.

"So, given the choice, you would stay at Hogwarts?"

"Yeah,"

Max nodded and regarded me with curiosity, "I have to get to Divination. I'll see you around Miller,"

"Later Max,"

The following few days trickled past me at a snail-like pace, and I found myself craving the weekend that was to come or a distraction to take my mind off the stress of O. . That distraction presented itself to me on Thursday, when Professor Sprout approached me during Herbology.

"Miss Miller, could you deliver this package to Professor Hagrid after class today?"

I nodded and spent the rest of class speculating what the parcel might contain with Ingrid while she tended to our set of Fanged Geraniums – she wouldn't let me near the things; said I traumatized them the last time I had tried to re-pot them or something.

I left Greenhouse seven and made my way down to Hagrid's hut. His N.E.W.T level class had just left for dinner, so I stood alone outside the building and tentatively knocked. Muffled noises could be heard inside, and a few barks. I stepped back instinctively as the door swung open and the kind, although splotchy, face of Hagrid looked down at me.

"Hullo Ivy, What brings yeh here?" he said hoarsely.

"Professor Sprout asked me to deliver this to you…" I held up the package. He took it from me and beamed.

"Thank yeh, Ivy. Would yeh like some tea?" he offered. I hesitated, then nodded. I hadn't gotten to speak much with Hagrid, besides during class, so I stepped into his hut and looked around in interest.

Hagrid set the package on the table and hastily untied it, revealing a bundle of what looked like knobby, orange celery.

"If you don't mind me asking, what're those?" I asked.

"They're called Finnish gurgle-roots. The unicorns really like 'em as a treat." He set the stalks down and busied himself preparing tea in a copper kettle. "We're doin' unicorns next week in the fifth year class."

I beamed and accepted a large mug from the large man. "I've always wanted to see a unicorn,"

A loud screech from outside drew our attention, as a hippogriff with mottled grey feathers stalked past the window and settled itself into the pumpkin patch near Hagrid's hut. Hagrid stared at it for a moment, his black beetle eyes looking distant and faraway.

"Hagrid?" I asked.

"Eh?" he turned to look at me and brushed what looked like a tear from his scraggly beard.

"Are you alright?"

"'m fine," I raised an eyebrow at his hurried response, and he set the kettle down on the table to fiddle with a handkerchief the size of a tablecloth, "It's just Buckbeak out there, he's, and well, he's not…"

He paused for a moment and turned to gaze out the window again. "D'you want to meet 'im? He loves meeting new people,"

I grinned, "I'd love to."

* * *

**A/N: CHAPTER 6! POW!**

**Summer break officially begins this week! I should be able to hammer out the next chapter soon, and it should feature a bit more George/Ivy interaction. **

**As always: REVIEW!**

**Until next time!**


	7. They Don't Know the Half of It

**A/N: Not J.K. Rowling**

* * *

Chapter 7: _They Don't Know the Half of It_

Ivy

Divination freaks me out. The idea that you can know that something's going to happen before it does bothers me more than it should. That's really the only reason I was never interested in it.

My sister, on the other hand, was nuts for it. She has a whole shelf in her room devoted to texts on divination. The Headmaster of Clarke made an executive decision years ago to forgo a divination class, so Annie, being the person that she is, bought as many books as she could and tried to teach herself. Fat lot of good that did her. As I've said before, unless you've got 'the Sight', divination is a completely useless subject. She never had an ounce of Seer ability. She tried to read my palm once.

Told me I was going to have 9 children and live to the ripe old age of 12.

That being said, my first encounter with Professor Trelawney was… strange. George and I were exploring on a weekend when we happened upon her holding empty bottles of cooking sherry. We may have popped out from behind a tapestry, so I don't blame her for dropping them on the floor, but she way more startled than she should have been for a divination teacher.

"Oh, my dears, the spirits neglected to inform me of your presence. It had slipped my mind that it's the fourteenth day of the month on a Saturday." She said in a breathy sort of voice. Her beaded shawls jingled as she scurried after a few bottles that rolled their way down the hall.

"Those of us with the Sight do find it difficult to discern the date, what with all the time our mind's eye spends elsewhere," she said.

"Huh. Did not know that," I said. George shuffled beside me and coughed slightly.

"Many do find the vague and veiled ways of the future perplexing," she said as she turned away from us, "Oh, and dear,"

"Yes?" I said,

"Do not dismiss your dreams as meaningless," she shuffled away with her bottles and bangles clinking.

I shrugged and pulled George down another corridor toward the kitchen.

"Are we just going to forget everything that just happened?" asked George once the house elves had supplied us with more food than we could hope to eat.

"Pretty much. Trelawney's a big fraud," I said around bites of chocolate cake, "besides, I try not to put my faith into predictions and shit."

"I dunno Ives,"

"Ivy, say it: I-V,"

George rolled his eyes, "I don't know what you have against that nickname,"

"You should try harder at coming up with a nickname. It's too obvious, you know?"

"So obvious nicknames aren't good?"

"Nope," I said.

"That means we need to find something better for Fred,"

"Fred's not his real name?!" I gasped, "Is it actually Frederick?"

"Er, no. It's Jeremy."

"What?"

"Yeah,"

"Jeremy and George?"

"Jeremy and George," he affirmed.

"No," I said, "I don't believe you."

"You got me… It is Frederick." He hung his head in mock shame.

"There, there," I laughed and patted his hand, "what were you saying before you called me that terrible name?"

"I wouldn't say terrible –"

"George, calling me 'Chocolate Cake' or even 'Treacle Fudge' would be better than Ives," I shuddered and George stuck his tongue out at me.

"Well then, Cream Puff, I was saying that you shouldn't be so quick to dismiss divination. I know that Trelawney is a fraud, but actual Seers are really powerful."

"I know. My English teacher at Clarke was a Seer, but she didn't parade around in gaudy shawls and bangles, I mean really, does Trelawney think that she'll get the Sight by dressing like a muggle fortune teller?"

George snorted and shoveled more food into his mouth.

* * *

George

About five years ago, Fred and I came up with an idea that evolved into a fully-fledged dream.

Our pranking started at an early age. When we were two, we snuck Mum's wand while she was cooking and turned her into a clown. That was only the tip of the iceberg, and although we learned never to prank her again (my mother can be scary when she wants to be) we never ran short of 'victims'.

You'd think that our favorite person to prank would be Percy or maybe even Charlie or Bill, but there is one who is so elusive that we've never been able to prank. Not once.

Our Great-Aunt Muriel.

We have tried and tried countless times to put bugs in her food, or turn her hair a different color, or even charm something to follow her around, but to no avail. Fred and I have a Christmas tradition where we plan one grand prank for Aunt Muriel for her annual New Year's visit.

A few days before Christmas, in 1988, Mum took the whole family to Diagon Alley so that we could do some holiday shopping.

The Muriel-Day prank we'd planned was going to spectacular – our Uncle Bilius had given me and Fred three galleons each for Christmas – and we weren't going to skimp on anything. It was an elaborate plot that was only going to be complete with the addition of a fake wand, so we set off for Gambol and Jape's to get the best fake wand that we could afford.

We were sadly disappointed to find out that what Gambol and Jape's carried didn't even deserve to be called a fake wand, it was so hideously manufactured, and the only thing it did was spout water from the tip.

"Even we could make a better fake wand than this, and we're ten!" cried Fred.

"Wait, Fred, that's it!" I said, "We should just make one ourselves. It'd turn out better than this one could ever hope to,"

That idea turned out better than we could have ever hoped, we even convinced our dad to charm the wand for us. It was the start of a dream, and it was the beginning of something that would eventually affect the entirety of the wizarding world.

The finished product was perfection, even though Aunt Muriel saw through it in the end (nothing ever gets by that woman).

But that dream was our future, and so we kept our plans secret until the big reveal, or until someone worthy enough came along.

Our dream was to own the joke shop of all joke shops. A place where mischief was encouraged, a place where one could go for all their pranking needs, a place for people young and old to enter frowning and leave beaming.

We would have more high quality materials and pranks than 'Jape's or even Zonko's so that no one would ever be disappointed with the selection, like we were all those years ago.

"The Fun House?" I said skeptically, "that's terrible Fred,"

He scowled, "Then what would we call it?"

"Something with our name in it. Like Fred and George's…" I trailed off and doodled absentmindedly on a piece of paper while Fred continued to pace. Suddenly we both stopped and faced each other excitedly.

"Weasley's Wizard Wheezes!" we cried at the same time.

That was during our first year. The following school years were spent coming up with product blueprints and marketing.

As of fifth year, only two people know about the shop. We told Lee Jordan in our third year. It only made sense that he be included into our planning, he's a marketing genius and our best friend. He wants to work at the Wizard Wireless Network when he graduates, but once he heard about WWW, he jumped right into production.

Ivy was the only other person we told about the shop. Sure, she's my girlfriend, and sure, we only met her this year, but the need for someone gifted at transfiguration quickly arose. Fred and I agreed that the only way to get the Canary Creams to work would be to include Ivy.

"Careers Advice?" read Ivy from the bulletin board in Gryffindor Tower.

"Ah yes, Careers Advice, the most dreaded and most anticipated time of the fifth year," said Lee as he threw an arm around Ivy's shoulder.

"Look at that, she put me and Fred at opposite ends of the schedule!" I said, removing Lee's arm from around Ivy.

"Probably didn't want to suffer the headache that prolonged exposure to the twins causes," said Angelina as she sidled up to read the notice, trailing her finger along the names to find her time slot.

"I resent that," said Fred,

I dropped into a nearby armchair and propped my feet up on a nearby table. Ivy positioned herself into the chair beside me, throwing her legs over the arm and trailing her fingers on the floor. Fred reclined on the couch and shut his eyes.

"So what careers are you looking at Ivy?" I asked after a moment.

"I honestly have no clue," she said, "my entire family works in the American Ministry,"

"I didn't know that," I said in surprise. She nodded and stretched tiredly.

"My dad's an Obliviator, my mum's the head secretary to the American Minister, and my sister is a junior assistant to the Magical Board of Education."

"_Magical Board of Education?" _I asked

"There's such a thing, yes," she said with a laugh

"Why don't we have one of those?"

"Ask your Minister," she muttered and snuggled deeper into the seat, before sitting up ramrod straight, "Oh God, do we have an arithmancy test tomorrow?"

I rolled my eyes at her and stood up, "We do. You need help?"

"Yes please!"

"And that's my clue to leave," said Fred, "There's a Hufflepuff waiting for me in an unused classroom." He offered as explanation, before racing out of the common room.

I chuckled and fetched my bag from my dormitory.

"So all you have to do for Wendell's theory is multiply Nott's Numeral by seven, while dividing all of the sums at once?" asked Ivy several minutes later.

"Exactly!" I said, grinning, "Although you forgot to substitute all of the undefined R's with T's."

"Damn!" she screamed in exasperation. Several mousy first years looked up in fright and hurried away to a farther table.

"What about dams?"

Ingrid had just walked over with a copy of '_Unfogging the Future'_, and sprawled herself across the sofa nearby.

"Arithmancy is terrible and I hate it," groaned Ivy, "I'm going to fail this test tomorrow, _why _did I let my sister talk me into taking it in the first place?"

"Why don't we take a break?" I suggested. Ivy grinned and nodded in excitement, hopping up.

"Ooh, you can help me with my divination!" cried Ingrid, "I need to review some older material,"

"Nooo," groaned Ivy, flopping back down.

"_Yes_," said Ingrid, "I brought a teacup." She set the cup down and opened up her book.

"So, I see… an arrow? Some dashes… Ooh! A bird, and a circle."

"And what does that mean?" I asked. Ingrid scanned the book.

"Well, the arrow is horizontal which means no change, a circle means success, I'm not sure what kind of bird this is, so I'll go with the general bird, which means good news, and dashes mean that I'm going on many short trips which may cause wasted time."

"So you're not going to change then go on a bunch of pointless trips, but then get the good news that you're successful?" I asked

Ivy frowned and pulled the book over to herself. "Ingrid, this is a crow," she said. "And that's a pistol, not an arrow." She ran her finger down the list of symbols.

"That's an exclamation point, not a dash. An eye… huh."

"What?" asked Ingrid.

"You're in danger, but you've got time, and you should be careful of impulsive decisions?" Said Ivy.

"Are you sure that's right?" asked Ingrid, "That looks like an arrow to me,"

I craned my neck to see into the teacup. "Yeah, that is an arrow. And that doesn't look like a crow,"

Ivy shrugged, and stood up to stretch. "Divination's pretty woolly as it is. We should head down to dinner, yeah?"

"Yeah," said Ingrid. I nodded as well, and the three of us made our way out of the common room. "Ivy, I have a question for you."

"Shoot,"

"Do you like your name?" asked Ingrid. I sent her a strange look, "What?" she asked, "It's a legitimate question! I feel like I'm the only person in the entire history of ever to not like their name."

"You don't like your name?" I asked,

"I like your name," said Ivy.

"Ugh. It's so weird. No one's named Ingrid, and it's not like I could go by my middle name. _Priscilla._" She shuddered, "What were my parents on when they named me? Although, it could have been considerably worse… my older brother's name is Bertil. That's alright if you're… Swedish or something, but not English. My entire family's like that, it's a tradition to give their kids the mouthiest Swedish names. Aunt Kjerstin, Uncle Gottfried, Cousins Matteus, Melker, Moa, and Mikkel – they really had a thing for 'M' names – Aunt Ottilia, the list just goes on and on and on –"

"Ingrid are you alright?" asked Ivy concernedly.

"Fine, I'm just fine," said Ingrid in a watery voice. I glanced at Ivy in concern. She merely shook her head and put her arm around Ingrid.

"I'll – I'll see you guys in the great hall," I said.

Ivy nodded and steered Ingrid toward the girl's restrooms.

* * *

_Ivy_

"Thank you so much for tutoring me again, Professor," I said before plopping down into the chair across from Lupin's desk.

"It's no problem at all Ivy. OWLs are coming up soon," he said with a small smile. The bags under his eyes seemed darker than normal and his hair just the slightest bit mussed.

"Are you alright Professor Lupin?" I asked, taking my textbook out of my bag.

"I'll be fine," he waved his hand dismissively and stood up, "you won't be needing your book today,"

I shoved it back into the bag and stood up as well, "what are we doing, then?"

"We," he said as he cleared space on the floor, "are going to be dueling." With a great heave, he moved a massive trunk from the center of the room, "Alright, have you ever dueled before Ivy?"

"No…"

"That's okay. In a formal dueling situation, we'd face each other and bow. However, I believe in much more practical applications for dueling. If you ever find yourself caught in a skirmish of any kind at any point in your life, it's important to know that the other person is typically not going to bother themselves with such formalities. They're going to – pardon me – go for the kill.

"An important thing that lots of people seem to forget about dueling is that you _should_ use the space around you, and other branches of magic while in combat. For example, Ivy, why could transfiguration be potentially useful in a duel?"

"Um, you can transfigure objects to fling at your opponent and surprise them with a more physical attack."

"And potions?"

"Potions? You could… brew a harmful potion to somehow use against the other person. But isn't that a little bit impractical?"

"It is completely impractical. I just wanted you to think about any possibilities." He said, rolling up his sleeves, "Now, disarm me."

"Now?" he nodded, "_Expelliarmus!"_ his wand spiraled out of his hands and landed across the room.

"Very good!" he praised, "Now, I'm going to try to disarm you. I want you to dodge and block as many of them you can, okay?"

I nodded and Lupin raised his wand, "One, two, three – _Expelliarmus!"_

"_Protego!" _I cried, the red light bounced off my shield,

"_Expelliarmus!"_

I leapt to the side and ducked behind a trunk, "Nice! Now try disarming me, as well as dodging,"

"Okay," I called from behind my hiding spot.

It continued on like this for about fifteen minutes, just continuous dodging and blocking and disarming, when suddenly – "You got me,"

I stopped to catch my breath and wiped my damp forehead, and shoved my wand into my pocket with a grin. "I win," I said.

Lupin smiled and retrieved his wand from where it had landed on top of a wardrobe.

"I think we'll stop there for today –" there was a knock at the door, "Come in," called Lupin.

And in came Snape, carrying an enormous goblet from which smoke was billowing out, "Hello Professor," I said cheerily. He glanced at me and narrowed his eyes.

"Thank you Severus," said Lupin, taking the goblet from him and setting it on his desk.

"I have more," said Snape in a flat monotone, "if you need."

"Yes, thank you very much," said Lupin with a smile. Snape glanced at me again and backed out of the room.

"What kind of potion is that, if you don't mind me asking, Professor?" I asked, stepping closer to the desk to look at the way the smoke was rising from the cup.

Lupin looked like he was trying to think quickly, "I've been feeling a bit under the weather. Severus was kind enough to brew this potion for me,"

"It doesn't look like any potion I've ever made or seen," I said in awe, lowering my face closer to watch the shimmery blue liquid burble a bit.

"It is rather rare, and quite difficult to concoct," muttered Lupin, sinking into his chair and taking a sip from his goblet, "and Severus is one of few willing to make it," he shuddered after another sip and set the goblet down. "It's a shame I can't do anything about the taste,"

"Why not? Sugar would be too easy to break down, I can tell from the way the smoke is rising in a single column... if that were amortentia you could, but I can tell that it's not… have you thought about essence of vanilla or a sprig of peppermint?"

"I'm afraid that adding any kind of flavoring would make the potion useless, but thank you for the suggestion," Lupin glanced at the clock, "It is getting rather late, wouldn't you say?"

I nodded and offered him a smile, "Thank you professor, I'm not sure how I'd be passing Defense without some of this extra help."

"Ah it's no trouble at all, Ivy. Stop by my office any time if you have any questions. Or if you'd like to chat, the teapot's always hot," he pointed at the kettle near the door with a grin.

I left his office and headed for the Gryffindor common room with something nagging at me the entire time.

"Something wrong Ivy?" asked George after I settled myself down beside him.

"I'm not sure… Is Fred around?" I asked. George raised his eyebrows and nodded, "Oi! Fred!" he called across the common room.

"Yeah?" he walked over to the sofa and leaned over it.

I looked up at him with a frown, "What potions become useless with the addition of flavoring?"

"What kind of flavoring are we talking about? There's usually _something _that can be added," he said with a grin.

I shook my head and furrowed my eyebrows, "you can't add anything to it,"

"Well I can't recite the list off the top of my head, but I may have something that'll help,"

He galloped up the stairs to the dormitories, leaving me and George alone. I leaned over and rested my head on his shoulder with my eyes shut.

"I got it!" Fred announced in a loud voice, dropping something heavy onto my lap. I cracked open one eye and found that Fred was perched on the coffee table across from us. I sighed and straightened up, looking down to see what Fred had brought me.

"Is this a book?" I asked him in mock awe, "You own a book?"

George chuckled and Fred glared at him.

"Oh, stuff it Ivy. That's mainly for reference. What do you think we used to start developing the joke candies?"

"_Virgil's Vivid Volume of Vapors, Venoms, and Vital – _wow, this guy's really serious about his V's – _Potions,_" I frowned, "Sort of dropped the ball there on that last word, didn't he?"

"Oh yeah… Vital Viles?" said Fred.

"I reckon he was on a roll and just didn't know what else to put." suggested George.

"Oh look, there's a sub-title," I said, "_A Glossary of Poisons, Elixirs, Draughts and the Like: What Not to do to Your Brews,"_ I grinned, "What Not to do to Your Brews? Dear God,"

Fred huffed, "Just open the bloody thing, will you?" he got up and stalked back over to Lee, "And tell me if it helped!" he called.

"Let's see if you have a table of contents," I muttered, flipping through the first few pages, "Aha," I ran my finger down the listings, "Healing potions, healing potions, healing potions… there."

I thumbed through the pages and what I found surprised me. The book seemed to be extremely useful, it contained nearly every potion known to wizard kind and thorough descriptions of each, ordered by type and alphabetically.

"So, what are we looking for here?" asked George as he edged closer to me and peered over my shoulder.

"It's thick, blue, bubbly… the smoke rises in a single column, and it can't be flavored." I said while flipping through the book.

"Is it a Cough Draught?" asked George, pointing to the entry in the book.

"No…" I said and turned the page.

We couldn't find the potion anywhere in the Healing chapter. I furrowed my brow and glanced at George, who seemed to be nodding off. I nudged his shoulder.

"George?"

"Hmm?" he murmured.

"George, you go on up to your dorm. I'll keep looking, alright?"

He rubbed his eyes blearily, pressed a kiss to my cheek, and stood up with a smile. "G'night, Muffin."

I giggled, "Goodnight George. Now go to bed, alright?"

"Yeah," he trudged out of the nearly empty common room. With a sigh, I turned back to the book and the table of contents.

"Where could you be?" I said to myself, "If you aren't a healing potion, then what are you?"

'_It is rather rare,_ _and quite difficult to concoct …'_ I flipped back to the end of the contents page and found what I was looking for: _Rare &amp; Complex Potions._

I began reading through the descriptions.

There was only one that matched what I had seen.

'_The Wolfsbane Potion – an innovative and complex brew which relieves, but does not cure, the symptoms of lycanthropy. A gobletful of Wolfsbane Potion must be taken for each day of a week preceding the full moon. It is notoriously difficult to make, and is disastrous if tampered with. When brewed correctly, it is thick in consistency, and has the tendency to bubble when freshly made. Its smoke will rise in a characteristic single column and can appear to be blue in certain lighting. Do NOT: cast additional spells on it, re-heat it after it is made, add flavoring, or drink if you do not suffer from lycanthropy. Doing any of this will either make the potion useless or poisonous. _

_Brew with caution, as the Wolfsbane Potion can be deadly if mishandled, mistreated, or tampered with._'

I shut the book and leaned back in my seat.

So many things were running through my mind, how hadn't I worked it out until now? I pulled my school bag over to me and rummaged through it, finding my Astronomy homework and unfurling the thick rolls of parchment.

The full moon's in five days. And that could only mean one thing.

Remus Lupin could very well be a werewolf.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry it's been a while since the last update, I sort of got stuck and now I should be back and I have a lot of new ideas, I think the story's going to go through a ton of changes that it wasn't going to before, so I hope I do it justice.**

**Thanks for reading, and as always please REVIEW!**

**They really encourage me, and although I'm going to be posting chapters regardless, I really appreciate feedback.**


	8. I'll Only Stay if You Stay

**A/N: Not J.K. Rowling**

* * *

Chapter 8: _I'll Only Stay If You Stay_

_Ivy_

"_Oh, tidings of comfort and joy,"_

_I stood up and examined my surroundings: The faded wallpaper looked like it was peeling in various spots, and like it had not been cleaned in quite some time, although someone had strung up garlands of tinsel and popcorn. Wreaths had been hung on the various old fashioned gas lamps, which gave a dim orangey glow to the wallpaper and thin rugs. I couldn't really tell what color anything was, from the terrible lighting, but I had a feeling that most of the house was furnished in dark colors: black, gray, brown, possibly green – I was getting a very 'Slytherin' vibe from the memorabilia that decorated the narrow foyer. Who else would have a candelabra shaped like a serpent? – Severed house elf heads decorated the walls above the stair well were eerie, although someone had placed Santa hats on each one._

"_Comfort and joy!"_

_Someone upstairs was singing a horribly twisted version of 'God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen'. The sound of chattering and laughter drifted down the hall, so I went to examine it. The moment I pushed open the door, various people that I'd never seen before called my name out in greeting._

"_Wotcher, Ivy!" A young woman a few years older than me, with bright pink hair, stood up from the table rather clumsily and grabbed me in a tight hug. _

"_I've missed you, Tonks," The words spilled out of my mouth before I could even register what was going on. I had a weird feeling that I couldn't place, almost like de'ja vu._

"_Oh, don't crowd the poor girl, she's probably starving. Look at her, all skin and bones," an older woman pushed me into a seat at the table and slid a plate in front of me. She looked horribly familiar, like I'd met one of her relatives before._

"_Did someone say Ivy?" A loud, unfamiliar voice from behind me startled half of the inhabitants of the kitchen. I felt a grin slide on my face, and I turned around in excitement; "Sirius!" _

_I stood up and hugged Sirius Black._

_Why am I hugging Sirius Black?_

_Although, he looked nothing like the Sirius Black I'd seen in mug shots. His face was clean shaven and his hair wasn't long and unruly, but much, much shorter and neatly done. He also had a wide smile on his face, and didn't look insane._

_He was actually handsome._

"_What on Earth happened to your hair?" I asked him automatically. The kitchen roared with laughter, someone else entered and answered for me._

"_A book burned it off," the only familiar voice I'd heard so far made me turn my head._

"_Remus! Long time, no see," I said with an easy smile._

"_Likewise, Ivy," he gave me a quick hug and settled himself into a seat beside an intimidating looking dark-skinned man._

_I sat down next to Sirius Black and gave him a skeptical look. "A _book_ burned it off"_

_He scowled at Lupin, "Moony!" he whined, "I thought we agreed to tell her that it was a chimaera!" _

"_I never agreed to that, Padfoot," said Lupin, gingerly sipping his tea._

_The older woman shook her head exasperatedly and looked at me, "The others are upstairs in Harry and Ron's room. Would you be a dear and –"_

I sat up with a gasp, wiping my cheeks off and pulling my knees up to my chest. The clock in the common room struck 3. I had fallen asleep right in front of the fire, my homework and Fred's book lay discarded on the coffee table in front of me. I sighed and continued to try and dry my face off. No matter what I dream about, I always end up crying. Ugh, I'm pitiful. That last dream wasn't even scary. Though it was vivid. The most vivid one I've ever had. Ever since I came to Great Britain, they've been that way.

That last one made no sense to me. Sirius Black? Professor Lupin? And who is Tonks?

I've heard that you can only dream about people you've seen before, and I'm certain I've never in my entire life seen someone that looked like Tonks.

Professor Trelawney's voice floated up into my head, '_Do not disregard your dreams as meaningless.'_

Do not disregard your dreams as meaningless…

I guess I'll humor Trelawney. So then why would I be hugging a convicted murderer?

Unless he's not actually a murderer… but then why would he have been in Azkaban?

A few hours later found me in the library. I was the first one in there when it had opened at 8, and I immediately approached Madam Pince at the front desk.

"Good Morning," I smiled at her. She frowned at me,

"Can I help you?" she asked in a clipped voice.

"Yes, do you have any Ministry records here?" I asked her.

"We do, in fact," she seemed to brighten up considerably once she'd figured out my intentions. I guess she was just happy to actually help someone, rather than snipe about rule breaking. "Was there something in particular you were looking for?"

"Criminal trials from between 1980 and 1983,"

Madam Pince waved her wand and waited a moment. A thick book floated its way over to her and rested on the desk. She dusted it off and handed it off to me. I nodded and weaved my way through the towering shelves, finding a secluded table near the back of the library.

'_Official Ministry of Magic transcripts of Criminal Trials: 1980 to 1985'_

Perfect. I nodded my thanks and found an index at the very back, but no Sirius Black. I frowned and flipped to the trial of 'Bluckerson, Trevor' on page 89, but it was followed immediately by 'Black, Vega'.

I took the book back up to Madam Pince, "Did you find what you were looking for?" she asked.

"No… actually, I was wondering if you had anything on the trial of Sirius Black?"

"One moment," she waved her wand then frowned. She waved her wand again, then turned to me, "It seems we haven't anything on his trial. Perhaps try writing to the Ministry? Their records room is open to the public, and they will send you copies of anything if you ask," she suggested.

I nodded, "Thank you, Madam Pince,"

"Anytime,"

I penned a request letter, then shoved it in my bag to send with my brown owl, Agnes, later. Now, I had other things to think about.

Like my discovery from last night.

That was pretty important.

I consider myself a pretty open person, so I understand that you don't choose to be a werewolf and can't control yourself during your transformations, so anything you do in wolf form you shouldn't be held accountable for. My mother always told me about her late Uncle Johnny, who was attacked by a werewolf when he was in his twenties. He bled out – no one found him in time, so no one could treat his wounds – and no one ever blamed the werewolf for what happened.

What I didn't understand was why I never heard from the other students that Lupin was one.

I strolled through the magical creatures section of the library and ran my fingers along the spines of the books. At the end of the aisle, I found a small shelf of books on lycanthropy. Selecting a stack of tomes, I sat myself down at the small study bench in front of the shelf, and settled myself down to flip through them.

Book after book after book continued to disgust me, all implying that werewolves were savage 'creatures/beings/beasts' that weren't fit to live in society, and were dangerous even in their human forms. I slammed the last book shut and jammed it back into its slot angrily.

No wonder no one knew about Lupin! If he wants to keep his other life a secret, then I'll keep my lips sealed. I never could have imagined that werewolves were so oppressed in Great Britain.

I left the library with a furious pace, stomped up the stairs to the owlery and whistled for Agnes.

"Hey there, pretty girl," I cooed.

Agnes fluttered down gracefully and landed on shoulder with a hoot.

"Can you take this to the Ministry for me?" I handed her the scroll, which she clamped in her beak and nudged me with in an affirmative gesture. I watched her take off and soar out of the tall owlery windows, and hoped with all of my heart that the Ministry would respond.

* * *

_George_

"Hey Ivy," I said once she slid down onto the floor beside me, shoving aside various parchments with half-finished games of hangman scrawled all over them. She examined one with a grin, "Where've you been?" I asked her.

"Oh, just the library and then the owlery," she said vaguely, then sat up with a start, "Do you want to go do something?"

"Do I!" I nearly shouted, leaping up. "Fred fell asleep a little bit ago and I'm rather bored."

"That… git?" tried Ivy. I nodded and gave her a thumbs up, "You're picking up the English slang rather well, young Ivy."

She rolled her eyes, "Two months, George. I'll be the same age as you in two months."

"Potato, tomato," I said.

Fred snored and drooled a little onto a couch cushion, his feet propped up on the coffee table and his head lolling back. Ivy wrinkled her nose, then smirked evilly.

She crept up to the back of the sofa, and pulled her wand out of her pocket, "_Titulus,"_ she said pointing her wand at Fred's face, where a crudely drawn mustache and beard appeared.

"Where'd you learn that one from?" I asked her, examining the drawing with a snort.

Ivy grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the common room, "Maggie sent me a book of weird charms for Christmas... I never thought I'd get to use that one,"

"I think I'd like to meet this mysterious Maggie and thank her." I said, as we turned down a deserted corridor and headed for the entrance hall.

Ivy wrapped her arms around herself and sighed, "I haven't ever gone this long without hearing her voice, I mean, we were attached at the hip when we were little kids, closer than sisters. Now it just feels strange to be without her."

"I feel that way about Fred, it's always been FredandGeorge… where one goes, the other follows. I like it that way. He's my other half," I said, "I don't know what I'd do without him."

Ivy grinned, "Maggie's the one who taught me how to fly,"

"Oh that's right, you did mention that she plays Quidditch,"

"She's been a chaser at Clarke since her second year. And she's already captain." The front doors of the castle stood wide open, outside the majority of the school milled about; a small group of Hufflepuffs skipped rocks across the lake, while on the other side of it, a couple of students were busy dipping their fingers into the water and tickling the Giant Squid's tentacles. A pick-up game of Quidditch had been started on the pitch, and other pockets of students lounged away on the courtyard and grounds.

"She keeps writing me about someone named Viktor Krum?"

"I'm not surprised." I muttered.

Ivy raised her eyebrow at me and I grinned and looked away. "Viktor Krum is one of the best seekers in the world. And he's only 18," I said.

"Ah, of course," said Ivy, "so what do you want to do?" We had reached a secluded strip of sand near the lake. Ivy conjured up a blanket and spread it on the ground, sitting herself down on it and kicking off her shoes to bury her toes in the sun-warmed sand.

I shrugged, taking a seat next to her. She reclined onto her back and gazed up at the clouds with a smile.

"Did you ever try to find shapes in the clouds when you were a kid?" she asked.

"No," I said, joining her, "but I see a cauldron right there,"

Ivy squinted at the sky, "Oh yeah, it does look like a cauldron if you turn your head a bit. That one looks like a pretzel," she pointed up.

"What, in the name of Merlin, is a pretzel?"

"Pretzels are… they… they're these snacks… huh."

"What?"

"I have no idea how to explain what a pretzel is,"

"You'll just have to show one to me someday," I said.

Ivy smiled, "I promise," she sat up, and laughed in excitement. I glanced at her with a smile playing on my lips.

"What?" I asked her,

"I'm gonna make a daisy chain!" she said excitedly, plucking some of the flowers that were growing in a patch next to our blanket, making quick work of knotting them together, and singing under her breath while she did so.

"What are you singing?" I asked her.

"Hmm?" she pulled another flower and added it to her growing chain, "Oh, it's a muggle song," she laughed a little, "I found my mom's collection of ABBA tapes in the attic last summer." she pulled one final knot on her chain, "_Though we never thought that we could lose…"_ she sang, then plopped the crown on my head with a grin, "a crown for Princess George,"

"Oi!" I pushed her over gently and ran my fingers along her sides. She burst into laughter and squirmed around, trying to escape my fingers.

"S-stop it G-George! Y-you know I-I-I'm ticklish!"

"That is precisely why I have so much leverage over you, darling Ivy!" I cackled evilly. She laughed even harder at that; tears began streaming down her face from mirth.

"Oh god," she giggled, "Don't laugh like that, it hurts to listen to."

I dropped my hands and pouted, "It's not _that _bad."

"Oh, God, it's absolutely terrible," Ivy wheezed.

I tried to hold my face straight, but my nostrils flared and my lips twitched. Ivy snorted at the look on my face, then clapped her hands over her mouth in horror.

I couldn't take it anymore. I collapsed onto the blanket and clutched my stomach from my howling. This caused Ivy to let out a giggle, then laugh uproariously.

I love her laughter. It's one of the most beautiful sounds I've ever heard.

It may very well be the exact reason I really fell for her. It's gentle, and it builds. It starts out quiet, then gradually gets louder and if I'm lucky, she'll snort. It's absolutely hilarious when that happens, because she gets this horrified and embarrassed look on her face, although I think it's adorable.

I fell back onto the blanket and tried to catch my breath. Inhaling a deep lungful of air and puffing it out in a happy sigh.

Ivy lay on her side and watched me gaze at the sky. I glanced at her, "What?" I asked.

"I want to kiss you," she said bluntly, her eyes searching my face for approval. I grinned and sat up.

"What're you waiting for?" I murmured.

She sat up and tenderly kissed me. My hands fell to her waist and she set her arms comfortably on my shoulders, pulling me closer to her. Her fingers brushed along the nape of my neck, and she sighed into my mouth. Our noses bumped awkwardly, and she pulled away for a split second to giggle against my lips, before leaning back in and moving her mouth with mine gently. She gasped when my teeth grazed her bottom lip. Small shivers ran up my spine when she pulled away panting.

"George, you're going to kill me someday." She said as she fell back onto the gingham blanket. Her lips were pink and slightly swollen and the rise and fall of her chest seemed to follow a beat.

"I have a question for you," I said as I traced small patterns in the palm of her hand.

"Shoot," she said, I looked at her questioningly. She shook her head with a small grin.

"Remember that day when Ingrid was blubbering on about names?"

A sad smile crept onto her face, "Oh, I feel so bad. She just found out that her grandfather passed away, and he was the one who named her. I think she felt guilty that she hates her name so much, it's sort of the only tie she's got to him."

"Huh." I said.

"Yeah,"

There was a small lull in discussion, before we fell right back into easy conversation, and pointed out more shapes in the sky. We stayed outside on the blanket until it started to get dark, and entered the castle before the dementors could begin their approach to the grounds.

I cast an everlasting charm on the daisy chain and tucked it into my trunk that night.

What can I say? I'm sentimental.

* * *

_Ivy_

As usual, the daily deliveries from owls at breakfast distracted the majority of the school as letters and packages were dropped unceremoniously onto heads, laps, and sometimes into food by the younger, less experienced owls. Agnes brought my weekly delivery of the Wizarding Times so that I could stay up to date on all of the happenings in the U.S., but today, she carried with her three additional letters.

On one, I recognized my sister's messy writing. Another was a scroll addressed to me in an unfamiliar looping script. Curiousity got the better of me and I set down the letter from my sister and didn't give the third one a single glance. I pulled on the twine holding the scroll together and unfurled the textured parchment, shoving the other two letters into my bag so I could read them later

Fred and George dropped into the seats on either side of me, "Who's that from?" asked George. I shrugged and scanned the note in interest.

_Miss Miller,_

_Please report to my office after breakfast at 10:00. It is located on the third floor, beside the West Wing._

_Sincerely,_

_Albus Dumbledore_

_P.S. I have to say, Peppermint Toads are wonderful sweets_

I raised my eyebrow and read it out loud. George nearly choked on his pumpkin juice, and set down his goblet. Fred snickered and bit into a slice of toast. I shook my head with a grin and checked the watch on George's wrist.

"I've got about 15 minutes, I should head up there shouldn't I?"

Fred nodded, "Go get' em, kiddo."

I stuck my tongue out at him and kissed George's cheek, "I'll see you two in the common room, yeah?"

"Maybe," Fred and George said at the same time.

"We've Quidditch practice today," said Fred

"Who knows how long Wood's going to keep us," said George. As if on cue, Oliver Wood stood up from the table and gave a booming clap.

"Alright, you lot, let's get down to the pitch!"

Fred rolled his eyes and elbowed George. I giggled and followed them out of the great hall, turning up the sweeping stairs rather than continuing out the huge double doors that stood open and let unfiltered sunlight spill out into the entrance hall.

"Ivy! Wait up!" I stopped my ascent, and looked behind me. Max was pounding up the steps behind me. He stopped to catch his breath, and leaned on the handrail for a moment.

"Yeah?" I asked him.

"Are you going to Dumbledore's office?"

"I am actually, did the other exchange students –" I stopped midsentence, and grabbed his wrist to look at his watch, "Shit!"

Turning to Max with a frantic look in my eyes, I grabbed his shoulder and pushed him up the stairs.

"Go!" I said.

"Wha –"

"Just go! We're going to be late,"

He ran up the steps, with me right at his heels. We turned the corner and approached the West Wing of the third floor, slowing our pace and coming to a stop in front of the stone gargoyle that had to have guarded the entrance to his office. It was the only kind of statue or painting in the entire hallway, so it only made sense.

"I think we made it," said Max, his dark skin shining with a spot of sweat. I grimaced and waved my wand over him and then myself to make us look like we hadn't just run a marathon. He grinned in thank you.

I glanced down the hall, to see Lenore chatting with Ross as they made their way toward us, "Here come Lenore and Ross,"

Max had a sheepish expression on his face, "Her name's Lenore? For the longest time I thought it was Leslie,"

I snickered then turned my attention toward the statue in front of us, "Peppermint Toad," I said experimentally. To my surprise, the gargoyle jumped aside and revealed a spiral staircase. Max grinned and held his arm out, "After you,"

I climbed the steps and came to a stop in front of a heavy oak door, with Max right behind me.

"Knock," he prompted me. I rolled my eyes and knocked on the door twice. A faint voice called out to us from the other side.

"Enter,"

I pushed open the door and stepped over the threshold. A look behind me told me that Lenore and Ross had finally caught up to us, the tops of their heads could be seen down the steps.

Finally turning my attention to Dumbledore's office, I could practically feel my eyes widen in wonder. I'm pretty sure my jaw dropped a little. It was huge, the ceiling seemed to stretch on forever, and lining the upper levels were bookshelves, upon bookshelves, upon bookshelves. Sleeping portraits adorned the walls, with ornate cabinets, shelves, and tables dotted here and there, covered in more puffing and whirring gadgets than I could count. I spied the Sorting Hat on a shelf next to a massive fireplace situated on the other side of Dumbledore's desk, and in an open cabinet, a strange stone basin sat, reflecting a silvery light onto the dark interior.

"Holy shit," muttered Max in my ear. I smiled, then caught sight of Dumbledore taking a seat at his desk, having just entered from a door on the right, which was nearly concealed from view by an enormous bookcase.

Lenore and Ross appeared in the office, the former gazed around the room in thinly veiled disinterest, one of the silver instruments drew her attention, and she paused only for a moment to look at it. Ross, on the other hand, spared the room no glances, striding in purposefully and coming to an immediate stop in front of Dumbledore's desk.

Max was waving his hand in front of a portrait that was sleeping soundly. The wizard inside was breathing so exaggeratedly that some of the wisps of his hair, as well as the end of the nightcap he had perched on his head, moved toward and away from his mouth.

Dumbledore smiled at the four of us, and the rather different reactions to his office we all had, then gestured to the four chairs he had placed around his desk.

"Please, sit," he said to us.

Max moved somewhat reluctantly away from the portrait. The man inside cracked open an eye and made a rude gesture at his retreating back, before winking at me and falling back to sleep, throwing in the occasional snore for good measure.

I found an empty seat, and sat down in it with a nervous smile. I still had no clue what Dumbledore had wanted to see us for.

"I'm sure you're all wondering what this is –" he was interrupted suddenly by a sudden burst of flame beside his desk. A magnificent bird, like a red swan, appeared from thin air, dropping a roll of parchment on his desk, before circling around the office once and diving down to rest on the back of my chair.

"Is that a phoenix?" I asked in disbelief.

Dumbledore chuckled, "Yes, Miss Miller, Fawkes is a phoenix,"

I smiled at Fawkes, and offered up my finger to him. It chirped and lowered its head to nuzzle my hand lightly, before taking off from the back of my chair and settling itself on a perch beside the door.

I turned back to find Dumbledore smiling lightly, his eyes twinkling, and the exchange students looking at me in varying stages of disbelief and awe.

Blushing slightly, I twiddled my fingers, "Sorry," I muttered.

"No, do not be sorry. Phoenixes are not very trusting creatures... He must have liked you. As I was saying," he said, moving the scroll to the side and turning his attention to the four of us, "the reason I have called you all here today is to discuss your stay with us at Hogwarts. How did you like it?" asked Dumbledore.

Lenore, of course, had something to say. "The only thing I liked about it here was Ravenclaw Tower and the library. It's cold, and wet, and dark in the castle. At Royden, the sun was _always _shining."

Dumbledore nodded his head and turned to Max, "And you, Mr. Terrell?"

Max smiled, "I definitely enjoyed my time here, and learned so much. The other Hufflepuffs were very welcoming, however," he said, "It's pretty exciting here. I have to say that I prefer a little less adventure at school."

Ross spoke up, "The castle's history is definitely interesting, and meeting the Slytherins has been enlightening. The atmosphere makes learning magic feel much more real than at most other schools, if I'm not mistaken."

Dumbledore switched his gaze to me. I grinned, "This has been one of the best years of my life and applying for this exchange program was a great decision. I absolutely love it here at Hogwarts. I've made some of the best friends I've ever had. I won't ever forget this place."

Dumbledore was truly smiling now, his eyes twinkling like mad behind his half-moon spectacles. "I'm glad to hear it, Miss Miller."

He turned to address all of us now, "I know that this program was meant to allow four American students to join us for a year, but I'd like to extend invitations to you all to continue your studies here with us, if you so choose." He said.

My jaw dropped. Max reached over and pushed it back into place with a single finger, a grin adorning his face.

"Your parents and guardians have all been notified, and have all given their consent for you to enroll for your remaining two years. It's your decision now. Your response is due by June the 3rd, one month from today. It has truly been a pleasure having you join the students this year, and I hope to hear from you all."

I nodded hurriedly and bounced my knees a little. I was bursting to tell Fred and George. We had discussed the reality of my leaving, but not as thoroughly as we should have.

The four of us stood and exited his office, then split off into pairs at the bottom of the spiral staircase, Ross and Lenore headed through the West Wing while Max and I approached the main staircase that would lead to our respective common rooms. I squealed and jumped around him in excitement.

"Oh, this is so fantastic!" I said, then leaned against a wall happily.

"I take it you're going to stay?"

"Of course I'm staying! Max, this has been my dream ever since I was a little kid! I've always wanted to go to Hogwarts,"

He chuckled then shook his head, "I'll miss you next year," he said.

"And I'll miss you, study buddy." I patted his arm and we continued down the hall.

"Write me, okay?"

"Of course. I would have even if I did go back to Clarke," I reminded him.

He nodded. We approached the staircase where we'd part ways, he'd head down toward the kitchens while I started up the steps.

I couldn't wait to tell George.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry for the late update, again. I've had some stuff going on, so thank you to everyone that's stuck with it so far, and those of you who continue to review!**

**As always, please review!**

**Until next time!**


	9. I Know How It Usually Goes

**A/N: As usual, I do not own Harry Potter. If I did I wouldn't resort to writing fan fiction.**

* * *

Chapter 9_: I Know How it Usually Goes_

Ivy

I stopped breathing, my hands covered my mouth, and my eyes trained on the line of green zooming through the air toward Angelina. She clutched the Quaffle and swerved, trying to avoid the Slytherins.

They scattered when Harry on his Firebolt zoomed toward them; Angelina's way became clear.

Beside me, Ingrid clutched her face in agony and watched with baited breath, the lion Maisie had painstakingly painted onto her cheek slowly smudging off from her rubbing it absentmindedly.

"SHE SCORES! SHE SCORES! Gryffindor leads by eighty points to twenty!"

The stands erupted with cheers, I leapt up and screamed in excitement, "YES!"

Ingrid clutched my leg tightly and laughed, "Look!"

I followed her finger and watched as Harry pelted after the Slytherin seeker –

He pulled out of his intense dive, his hand clutched tightly into a fist and one of the widest smiles on his face. As suddenly as he had caught the Snitch, he was tackled in a mid-air hug by a sobbing Oliver Wood, followed by the rest of the team.

"Come on!" shrieked Ingrid in my ear. She grabbed my forearm and yanked me down the rickety steps and onto the pitch and into a sea of crimson.

People were screaming themselves hoarse, it was all a confusing mess of Gryffindor red and gold. Percy Weasley was jumping all around, his horn-rimmed glasses askew on his nose, and Professor McGonagall leaning heavily on a second year student, sobbing almost as hard as Oliver Wood and wiping under her eyes with a painfully scarlet flag.

Fred clapped me on the back as I passed him, but George was nowhere in sight. Ingrid pulled me toward Alicia and Angelina and engulfed them in a tight group hug, Katie Bell tacking onto us not a moment later, followed by Lee and a few other students that I'd never met.

The group moved toward Dumbledore, and suddenly I was swept into someone's arms.

George rested his chin on my head. I grinned and watched as Oliver handed a gleaming Quidditch cup to Harry.

"Say butterbeer!" Ingrid pulled a camera out of her bag and took a picture of me and George. A puff of bright purple smoke was emitted from the top of the camera.

Winning the cup seemed to have cast a spell on the entirety of Gryffindor house. For a week at least, the team's victory wiped any thoughts of exams from everyone's minds. June crept up on the school in the blink of an eye, and it had injected everyone with an energy that could only be explained as anticipation for the summer holiday.

"It's because of the Quidditch World Cup," Fred had explained to me one day, "it's in Britain this summer."

A different kind of mood settled around the fifth and seventh year students. June not only meant summer, but also OWLs and NEWTs. They tended to linger near windows and gaze out at the grounds wistfully, before trudging along with their bags laden with heavy textbooks.

Our teachers had also started to kick into 'revision mode', deciding to just drill us during classes rather than set us with homework. I didn't have any more time for any extra lessons with professor Lupin, although I did stop by for a cup of tea and to thank him for all of the help he had given me.

"There you go, Agnes," The owlery was deserted, besides the other owls, so George and I had crept up there to send something off. I tied my continuation of enrollment to her ankle, to be sent to Dumbledore. I'd nearly forgotten all about the deadline, so it was a good thing that Max had reminded me. I would have been stuck trying to find a time to send the letter right in the middle of exams. Agnes nipped my finger affectionately and took off through the tall owlery windows.

"I still can't believe you're staying," George murmured into my ear. I grinned and wrinkled my nose.

"Let's get out of here, I've got a big stack of notes to be sifting through... "

"I'm pretty sure most of it is games of hanger-men," said George.

I pushed open the door and led him down the spiraling steps, "It's hangman, and I seriously regret teaching it to you and Fred. It just gets more and more inappropriate the longer you two play it."

"It gets more and more fun, you mean."

"Sure," We had reached the fat lady, "Carpe Diem," I said to her.

"Absolutely," she said with a smile, swinging open for us.

The common room was nearly silent when we entered it, everyone had their heads bent low over books and sheaves of parchment. The quiet was broken only by the occasional sniff, the scratching of a quill, and rustling papers. A window sat open, stirring the air in the room with a slight breeze.

McGonagall had told us our exam schedule only yesterday, and everybody was cramming like mad. Even Fred and George, who had yet to give a damn about school work, put a bit of effort into studying. Our first exam, Theory of Charms, was slated for Monday morning.

Ingrid was absolutely freaking out about her Divination and Transfiguration exams. She sat huddled in a corner if the common room, with textbooks on both subjects spread out on either side of her, going from one to the other as quickly as she could. The second she caught sight of me, she began beckoning wildly. I sighed and settled down next to her, waving George off to finish studying with Fred.

We would be receiving the results of our exam 'sometime in July', according to Professor McGonagall, so I had that to look forward to.

After a while of last-minute revision, my eyes started to get heavy with sleep and the words on the page started blurring together. Realizing that I was getting nowhere, I trudged up to my dormitory and sank heavily onto my bed, not even bothering to change, and drifted off in exhaustion.

The following two weeks rushed past, in a blur of questions and spells.

I felt confident about how I did on my Charms and Transfiguration exams. The questions were rather straightforward, and the practical portion was mindlessly easy. The Herbology exam, on the other hand, was a disaster. I'll be lucky if I even scrape an Acceptable. The Fanged Geranium I was tending to shriveled up and died in the middle of the exam – I just hope the written part of the test can float me. The exams for Defense and Potions were both easy enough, although I mixed up the blasting curse and the cutting hex in Defense.

The exams for Care of Magical Creatures and Astronomy were both alright, although I don't feel like I did as well as I could have. I'll have to thank George. Because of his help with Arithmancy, I understood the exam better than I ever could have. I actually feel like I did really well on it.

I don't even want to think about that History of Magic exam. I know I absolutely bombed that thing. I only knew the answer to three questions on the entire exam. Three.

"Oh, that History of Magic exam was absolutely dreadful," moaned Ingrid. She trudged into the common room and rubbed her face tiredly, "but, we're done."

"I didn't think it was that bad," said Maisie. She had joined me and Ingrid out of the great hall after the exam.

"Of course you thought it was easy, it's your best subject!" Ingrid dropped onto a sofa after shooing away some first years. The two of them continued talking about the exams, while I took a seat on the floor. Fred, George, and Lee had gone to get some celebratory sweets from the kitchens, and Angelina was off enjoying the nice weather with Alicia – the two had decided to fly about the Quidditch pitch.

I fished around in my bag for some scrap parchment and a quill to doodle with, when my hand brushed an unfamiliar square of paper. Furrowing my brow, I pulled a letter out of bag and tried to figure out how it had gotten in there.

Suddenly, I realized it had been sent along with the letter from Dumbledore and the one from my sister. I broke the wax seal and read its contents in growing shock.

"Maisie, Ingrid, I'll be right back –" I jumped up and left the common room, the letter clutched tightly in my hand. My thoughts were racing, trying to put together a reasonable explanation for everything I'd just realized, and for everything I hadn't thought about until now.

I approached the third floor, and stepped up to the gargoyle statue that guarded Dumbledore's office. I bit my lip hesitantly, "Peppermint Toad?"

To my relief, the statue leapt aside and allowed me to climb the stairs into the Headmaster's office. I knocked on the door.

"Enter,"

I pushed open the door and was greeted by Dumbledore, working at his desk. He glanced up at me and smiled.

"Ah, Miss Miller, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

My frown deepened. Where do you begin with something like this? I approached his desk and took a seat across from him, smoothing my skirt and clutching the letter in my hands like it was a life line.

"I'm probably over-reacting about this, but things just stopped making sense the more I researched,"

Dumbledore looked much more interested once I'd mentioned research. "Research? Into what?"

I laughed somewhat nervously, "Where do I even begin?"

"I find the beginning to be a perfectly reasonable place to start," said Dumbledore with a smile.

My laughter sounded a bit forced, although, what would you expect? I'm sitting in front of one of the most powerful wizards in all of Great Britain, trying to tell him about something that'll probably end up being a dead-end or a waste of time.

I paused, trying to find the best way to phrase everything, "I have these… dreams."

Oh, I definitely had Dumbledore's attention now. "What kinds of dreams?"

"There's not really a way to describe them. Sometimes, it's like I'm just watching a scene play out. Other times, I interact with the people, and they're people I've never met in my life. I never thought twice about them, until Trelawney mentioned something to me."

"And you immediately believed whatever Professor Trelawney had said?"

"Of course not! I don't put much faith into Divination, but it was weird that she even knew about the dreams in the first place, I mean, the only person at Hogwarts that knows is George."

"George Weasley?" asked Dumbledore.

I nodded before continuing, "I didn't even bat an eyelash when she'd said that my dreams weren't meaningless. Until I had another one,"

"Another dream, you mean?"

I rubbed my forehead, "Yes. This one was more vivid than some of the other ones I've had before. I was in this dark house, and it was decorated so strangely. There were house elf heads on the walls, and Slytherin memorabilia everywhere. It was just creepy, and I walked into the kitchen and there were all these people that I'd never met, greeting me like we were old friends! There was one woman with bright pink hair, Tonks," Dumbledore stroked his beard at that and nodded, "I have no idea how I knew her name, I just started talking to her like it was nothing. And Sirius Black comes in and gives me a great big hug! Then Professor Lupin walks in, and calls him some weird nickname – Padfoot…" I frowned.

Dumbledore stood up and began walking around, with a thoughtful look on his face.

"And of course I was in tears when I woke up."

Dumbledore stopped pacing and turned to me with his eyebrows raised, "Tears?"

"Every time."

I held up the piece of paper I was still clutching, "and then there's this. I woke up confused beyond belief. Hugging Sirius Black is the last thing I'd ever be doing, right? He's a convicted murderer! So I thought, why not humor Professor Trelawney? I went to the library to read through his trial, but Madam Pince couldn't find a copy of it on file. She told me to write to the Ministry for one, so I did."

I unfolded the letter and read a portion of it out loud, "We are sorry to inform you that the Ministry does not have record of a trial for Sirius Black. Thank you for your inquiry, The Department of Records."

I set it down in my lap, "Professor Dumbledore, does this mean that Black never got a trial?"

His face was troubled.

"There is a possibility, but I'm afraid that there was enough evidence against him that –"

"Like Peter Pettigrew?"

Dumbledore nodded, "Peter Pettigrew's murder, along with the deaths of thirteen muggles,"

"But what if he was framed?" I asked.

"How do you mean?"

"This is a relatively crazy theory, but what if Pettigrew, not Black, blew up the street of muggles."

"Are you suggesting that he killed himself in the process?" asked Dumbledore.

"No," I said, searching my memories for something I seemed to have missed, "no, something else happened…" I looked up into the brilliant blue eyes of Dumbledore, "He's an animagus," I suddenly remembered, "I dreamt about it. A rat,"

"Miss Miller, do you remember when your dreams first began?"

I shook my head, "Not exactly. Maybe around three or four? The earliest one I can remember is of this great, black lake in a dark cavern."

Dumbledore studied me intently.

"Do your parents know of these dreams?"

"When I was younger they did. They think I outgrew them. Why?"

Dumbledore stroked his beard and regarded me for a moment, before turning to the shelf behind him; scanning for something rather important, his hand closed around the spine of a book that was so dusty I could barely tell its color. It was crammed into one of the higher shelves, but with one mighty heave, it came free. He carried back to his desk, dusting it off as he went, revealing a navy cover.

Despite the fact that the book was old and dirty, the inside of it was pristine. It was obvious that Dumbledore rarely opened the book. Perhaps never, although it was unlikely that he owned a book that he'd never read before. He flipped through the book, nodding as he went, then looked back up at me, folding his hands.

"Miss Miller, I have reason to believe that you are a Viewer."

What the hell is a 'Viewer? "A Viewer?"

"Viewing is a part of a rarer branch of Divination, known as Major Divination. A branch that also houses Seers, and Evaluators."

"Are you saying that I have the Sight?" I asked in disbelief

"A form of it, yes," he said with a small smile and a twinkle in his eye.

"But how have I not known? I feel like foresight is a pretty conspicuous thing…"

He frowned in thought, "I'm not entirely sure. Magic is often a fickle friend. It can have a mind of its own and lead us to fate we may not have chosen in the first place."

"Oh," that was vague, "So then how did I become a Viewer in the first place?"

"It is a nearly eradicated gift, only appearing every third generation or so within a family – if it even appears in the first place – with the first dreams occurring around age three."

"Three of my grandparents are muggles, so that only leaves my Grandfather. Robert Crawford." I said after a moment.

"Crawford… I'm certain I have heard that name before," said Dumbledore. He opened the book up to one of the first few pages and looked back up at me, "Do you happen to be related to a woman named Nancy Pickett? Or perhaps I should say Nancy Crawford,"

I nodded, "She was my Great-Grandmother."

Dumbledore smiled, "It seems that your Great-Grandmother was also a Viewer."

"Really?" I leaned forward in my seat to see what exactly he was referring to. He shut the book and handed it to me. I caught a glimpse of the faded gold lettering that spelled out_, Advanced Divination: The Unlearnable Art by Trent Trevington._

"You may keep it," said Dumbledore, "it may come in handy,"

I smiled and accepted the book, and wiped the palms of my hands on my skirt because they were unnecessarily clammy. I dove straight into my next flurry of questions.

"So what do I do exactly?" I asked.

"Viewers can see into the past, present, and future through their dreams. Viewers and Seers cannot control what they see, or what they prophesize about. Knowledge of the future – albeit, conscious knowledge of the future – is what makes Viewing so dangerous in particular. Seers cannot remember their prophecies, and in rather extreme cases, that they have made a prophecy at all. Seers cannot see full scenes play out, nor can they see into the past.

He fixed me with a serious stare, "Listen to me, Ivy; should the knowledge that you have this ability fall into the wrong hands, it could be truly disastrous. Tell only those that you trust with your life."

I put my face in my hands for a moment, trying to collect… something. "What do you mean by disastrous?"

Dumbledore sighed. "I am telling you this only because I feel you should know it. I fear that Lord Voldemort seeks to return, and should that happen, and should he find out that you are a Viewer, he will stop at nothing to use you in order to gain information of the future."

I realized now what he meant. My heart plummeted to my toes and I felt my breath shorten.

"Wh-" I floundered for something to say, my words escaping me. "Wait," I said suddenly, "the Chamber of Secrets is real then?"

Dumbledore nodded. Memories of dreams I'd had when I was a little girl rushed to the surface of my mind, "Then who - it was Ginny Weasley?"

Dumbledore nodded sadly again, "Only last year, Miss Weasley was taken into the Chamber by Lord Voldemort,"

My hands came to cover my face as my dreams suddenly became reality. Dumbledore sat in silence, letting me just soak in everything.

I couldn't help but start crying. I felt like an idiot, crying in front of Dumbledore, but the horrors I'd experienced as nightmares were real. My nightmares were real.

He wordlessly conjured up a handkerchief and handed it to me. I gave him a watery smile and accepted it, finally finding my voice again.

"S-so," I sniffed, "what else do I need to know?"

"You mentioned tears?"

I laughed, but it came out as more of a sob. "Yes, whenever I have one of these dreams, I wake up crying. Why? Is that important?"

Dumbledore nodded, "Very. Viewer tears are a highly magical – and highly valuable – substance used in the production of Pensieves. The last known Viewer died about twenty years ago. One of the reasons Pensieves are so hard to come across is that only a few can be made per century. I own one of the last remaining ones in Magical Britain."

"You own a Pensieve?"

"I do. In fact," he pulled out a pocket watch and checked the time, nodding, "if it's permissible, I'd like to see some of the dreams you've had,"

My eyebrows rose involuntarily. I had not been expecting that, "Of course," I said, wiping my cheeks with the back of my hand. "What would you like to see?"

"Perhaps your dream about Pettigrew and Black? And anything else you might find important,"

I bit my lip and tried to think of anything that might be important to show to Dumbledore, trying to stay away from dreams I'd realized were obviously from the future.

"How do you extract them?" I asked him a moment later.

He conjured a vial and held it out to me, "Put your wand to your temple, and concentrate on a specific memory, remembering all of the details that you can. Once you've done that, pull your wand away."

I pressed the tip of my wand to my temple and thought of the first memory I wanted to show him, the confrontation between Pettigrew and Black. I remembered the slightly crazy look in Pettigrew's eyes, the despair and hopelessness in Sirius's. I remembered the street they were on, the shops that lined the street, the cat that skittered across the road, the dog that chased after it, and the people that were walking along and minding their own business. I focused on Pettigrew's transformation, how he cut off his own finger, the spell he used to blast the street and make his getaway. Everything. It had to be as precise as I could manage.

Slowly, I retracted my wand, bringing with it a thread of silver. Dumbledore smiled as I lowered the memory into the vial. I brought my wand back to my temple a second time.

This dream seemed to have taken place much later, and somewhere on the Hogwarts grounds. I had no idea exactly when, but was much shorter in length that the previous one, and only showed a bound, and older looking Pettigrew transforming back into a rat and scurrying away into the Forbidden Forest.

I placed the second memory into the vial, and put my wand back into my pocket.

"I think that's it for now," I said. Dumbledore nodded and opened up the dark cabinet I'd seen the first time I had been in his office. He poured the memories into the stone basin.

"That's a Pensieve?" I asked, eyeing the bowl curiously, "I've only ever heard of them,"

Dumbledore nodded, his eyes twinkling behind his half-moon glasses. I took a seat at the armchair in front of his desk while he bent low over the Pensieve, until his nose dipped into the silvery substance. Further and further, he leaned into the Pensieve until he fell into it, completely disappearing from view.

I sat in the armchair quietly, keeping my eyes on the spot where he had disappeared. After a minute, I let my eyes wander around his office. Trying to keep my thoughts on a lighter subject than those of this afternoon. Or the apparent coming return of You-Know-Who. I shuddered and patted my cheeks lightly to stay focused on other things…

So I've got the Sight. That's just irony there. Honestly.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw that Dumbledore had reappeared from the Pensieve.

He looked understandably upset, and he pulled his pocket watch out a second time.

"I believe that is all the time I have. I must attend to some business on the grounds, but if you have any more questions, please don't hesitate to visit me before the school year is complete." He lifted the book off the desk and handed it to me with a smile.

"Thank you, Professor." I said to him, waving to Fawkes – who I hadn't noticed throughout my brooding. He chirped in response.

I backed through the door, and made my way to Gryffindor Tower with the book clutched tightly to my chest.

* * *

**A/N: Okay, so it's been a while, but this chapter did NOT want to be written. It's taken so long to finish the dang thing, I apologize for the lateness.**

**Also, I've gone back and fixed/changed a few things with the earlier chapters (1-3). They're small changes, so it won't affect the story line at all, but it clarifies some minor details. Definitely. Maybe I should classify it as a re-wording? Is that a thing? Oh well.**

**Chapter 10 is well on its way, as well as re-worded/fixed up versions of chapters 4 and 5.**

**Also, thank you to everyone who left such lovely comments and reviews this month! It means so much to me, and thank you all for reading!**

**REVIEW!**

**Until next time!**


	10. A Compass in the Fog

Chapter 10: _A Compass in the Fog_

**A/N: I do not own Harry Potter. I wish.**

* * *

"How extraordinary," said Albus Dumbledore, with a hint of amusement in his voice. Of course he hadn't wanted Buckbeak to be executed, but it was now that all of the pieces were starting to fall together, and it was now that Dumbledore understood what was to be done.

He checked his pocket watch, confirming what he had suspected, and patted Hagrid on the shoulder, "Macnair, if Buckbeak had indeed been stolen, do you really think the thief will have led him away on foot?" He looked up at Hagrid with a smile, "Search the skies if you will… Hagrid, I could do with a cup of tea. Or a large brandy."

And so Dumbledore was led inside by Hagrid, and was soon followed by the Minister, Macnair, and the committee member.

Now all he could do was wait.

How was he to have known that Ivy Miller, the likeable and somewhat plain American student, held the key to the mystery that surrounded Sirius Black?

Of course, a revelation like this would require some hard evidence…

Should Sirius be captured during the course of tonight's events, Cornelius would be sure to administer the kiss, no questions asked. He need to find a way to prove his innocence, and buy time to convince Fudge.

It would certainly help if he caught Pettigrew. That would wrap everything up quite nicely –

Dumbledore stopped mid-thought, and mid-sip. Slowly, he set down the tea cup and saucer, and thought back to one particular dream that Ivy had shared with him.

It was tonight.

In showing him a seemingly random dream of Pettigrew, she had upped the chances of getting Sirius his freedom within the month.

Dumbledore smiled to himself, and tuned back into whatever Cornelius had been saying about outlawing Biting Bushes.

Perhaps now his errors from the past could finally be amended, and for that, Dumbledore was grateful.

* * *

"I'm sorry, run that by me again?" Sirius Black asked in disbelief as he climbed out of Professor Flitwick's office and onto Buckbeak's back, "Dumbledore did what?"

"He managed to catch Pettigrew!" cried Harry with a wide grin, "I have no idea how he knew where to look, but he got him!"

Hermione looked like she was close to tears, although it might have been from the height they were at.

"Remind me why I need to leave, then?" Sirius seemed to be getting more and more confused, he clutched his stomach as the hippogriff crested the top of the astronomy tower.

"Because," said Harry, "Fudge is an idiot and won't believe a word anyone's been saying to him. He went ahead and ordered the dementors perform the kiss on you."

Buckbeak landed on top of the West Tower with a clatter. Harry and Hermione slid off, and waved to Sirius.

"I'll owl you as soon as I can," said Harry.

Hermione nodded vigorously, "You should expect an owl from Dumbledore as well," she said.

"How can I ever thank –"

"GO!" shouted Harry and Hermione together.

"I promise, Harry, once my name gets cleared we'll be together again. You're truly your father's son…"

Sirius saluted them, and took off on Buckbeak… he and the hippogriff became smaller and smaller as Harry gazed after them... then a cloud drifted across the moon... They were gone.

* * *

Ivy

"Listen to this, 'Apalling Ministry Blunder – Black Never Received Trial'," I grinned and showed the article to Fred, who shook his head in amusement.

The Hogwarts Express was pulling out of the Hogsmeade station, and most of the fifth year Gryffindors were crammed into a single compartment. Maisie had ducked out earlier when Benjamin shambled along and fetched her to help him patrol the rest of the train.

I was squished between Fred and George, and Lee, while Ingrid, Angelina, and Alicia took up the other side of the compartment. Katie Bell, a girl from the year below us, also sat with us in the compartment. Although I hadn't talked to her much, I decided that I liked her. She reminded me of Annie, in a way.

The article was surprisingly accurate, as far as I could tell. Surprising for the Daily Prophet, although it was probably due to the fact that it was written by someone named Abram Fidel and not Rita Skeeter.

**Sirius Black, who was famously incarcerated at the end of the First Wizarding War, escaped from Azkaban prison earlier this year. Believed to have been in league with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, his escape left the Wizarding World terrified and cautious. However, recent events taking place upon the grounds of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry have revealed the existence of Peter Pettigrew, a man Black had supposedly murdered. Further digging into this matter has led to the discovery that Sirius Black never received a trial in the first place. With Pettigrew in Ministry custody and Black set for trial next week, we can only wait and hope that the Ministry can keep its head long enough to sort out the truth, once and for all. The bigger question is – CONTINUED ON PAGE 3.**

I folded up the newspaper and shoved it into my bag, and rested my head on George's shoulder. It wouldn't hurt to fall asleep, but then I realized that I was sitting in between the twins, and Fred had yet to get me back for the whole 'drawing on his face' thing.

Sitting back up quickly, George let out a quick chuckle. He seemed to have realized the exact same thing as me.

"So, Ivy, what are you doing this summer?" asked Angelina.

"I'm just going to spend some time in New York with my family. Not anything too eventful…"

"Ooh, that sounds like so much fun! I've always wanted to visit the States!" gushed Ingrid, "Much sunnier than dreary old Britain I bet."

"Yeah, it's something." I grinned.

We spent the rest of the train ride playing games of Exploding Snap and sharing boxes of Every Flavor Beans. We were still laughing about the look on Lee's face after he ate a charcoal flavored bean, when the Express pulled into Platform 9 ¾.

George looked nervous all of a sudden, after we had unloaded our luggage and pushed our things through the magical barrier. Lacing his fingers with mine, he led me over to an older witch and wizard, both with bright red hair and kind smiles.

The woman turned to face me and George with a wide smile. She looked rather familiar, although I couldn't place her. Fred came up beside us and grinned at the look on George's face.

"Oh, George! How are you sweetheart? And you Fred?" The woman smiled brightly at the twins and flicked her eyes to me, then to our entwined hands. Her eyes lit up and she sent a questioning look to George. I smiled at her while the tips of George's ears turned pink.

"Oh, I'm fine Mum. Er, this is Ivy. Ivy, this is my mum."

"Nice to meet you, Mrs. Weasley." I extended my hand, but it was quickly waved away by Mrs. Weasley.

"No, no, dear; you should know that in this family, we give hugs." she immediately pulled me into a motherly squeeze and patted my back. "So, you and George?"

I nodded and glanced at George. His face was pink and he was looking at the ground sheepishly. I grinned and pulled him down closer to give him a kiss on the cheek. Mrs. Weasley looked like she was about to burst from happiness. She turned back to the man who could only be Mr. Weasley, and greeted Harry when he wheeled his trolley up to them.

Fred gave me a hug and ruffled my hair, before wheeling his trolley over to his father, "You'd better write me, Miller!" he called with a grin. I rolled my eyes and turned to George, who had his hands stuffed into his pockets.

I smiled up at him lightly and pulled him in for a hug. He leaned down and buried his face in my hair, "Owl me, yeah?" whispered George.

"Of course," I said, "I'll miss you,"

"I'll miss you too," he said, before pulling away and joining the rest of his family as they headed out of the station.

I sighed and turned away sharply, running right into a beefy man. I stammered out an apology, but something about me seemed to have offended him greatly, for he scowled at me and stalked away.

"Sorry 'bout my uncle," said Harry as he followed the man, "He doesn't like magic much."

I grinned at the smaller boy, and waved to him, "No problem, Harry. See you next year,"

People continued to stream past me, so I joined the crowd towards the entrance, when I was met by a man holding a sign with my name on it, "Ivy Miller?" he asked.

I nodded.

"Your folks hired a car to take you to Heathrow Airport. I'm Dan by the way," he caught sight of my trolley, "Allow me,"

He wheeled my luggage outside of the station and began loading the unwieldy trunk into the back of the car. He handed me Agnes's cage with a smile, "That's a beautiful bird, that is. How'd you get it?"

I climbed into the backseat of the car and put her cage beside me, trying to think as fast as possible, "Oh, she fell out of a tree as a baby. I've had her ever since."

Dan nodded, seeming to have accepted my answer. I felt a little bad for lying to him, but I doubted he would have believed me if I told him that I had gotten her in a magical pet store at the age of 12.

Most of the car trip was spent in silence, but I thanked Dan once he had pulled into the airport.

He tipped his hat to me and helped me get my trunk onto another trolley before driving away. I entered the large building and made my way over to a dark and disused corner where an empty and battered old vending machine stood.

I leaned against the smudged front of it and immediately fell through, emerging on the other side. I brought my trunk up to a bored looking witch in a navy blue uniform.

"Welcome to the International Floo Station of Heathrow Airport. What is your destination?"

"The John F. Kennedy International Airport," I answered.

"Alright. That will be 5 galleons. Please allow me to resize your luggage." She waved her wand over my trunk, shrinking it down to the size of a matchbox. I stuck it in my pocket, "You will have to hold onto your owl. Please step up to the floo terminal."

Wrapping my arms around the cage, I stepped into the dancing green flames. "New York City, New York, United States!" cried the attendant, and before I knew it, I was spinning. I shut my eyes as tightly as I could and waited for the rushing sound in my ears to stop, toppling out of the grate and at the feet of the next attendant minutes later.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

I groaned and pressed my hand to my forehead, "Yes," as useful as the airport Floo Stations are, they make me nauseous as hell.

"Welcome to New York. Is this your destination?" I nodded and he continued to speak, "Do you have any luggage that was resized?"

"Yes," I said, pulling out my shrunken trunk. I set it on the ground and he flicked his wand at it, growing it back to its usual size. I gripped the handle and readjusted the cage in my arms, before stepping through the magical barrier and out into the busy airport

Immediately, I was tackled by a skinny, blonde blur.

"Ivy!" wailed Maggie.

"Can't. Breathe." I joked. She scowled and poked my arm accusingly.

"You can't blame me. I haven't seen you in months! Patrick and I missed you so much! How have you been? How was Hogwarts? Ooh, Colleen was so jealous when she heard that you were chosen to go! Did you make any friends? How was the food? How were the—"

"Maggie, calm down." I said, "Where are my parents?"

She looked around and frowned, "They were right – Oh, I see them, they're at that coffee place down there." She pointed across the way. I spotted my mom standing at the counter, and my dad waiting for her order to finish. He caught sight of me and waved. I grinned and headed over to him.

"Hey Dad!"

"How are you, Sweetie?" he asked.

My mom had finally finished ordering her drink, "Hi, Sweetheart!"

"Mom!" I threw my arms around them and hugged them tightly, "Where's Annie?"

"She's at home," my mom answered. My parents looked completely different. While my father was fair, my mother had dark hair and eyes. I looked most like her, although my hair and eyes were definitely lighter. She had her hair cropped short, hanging just below her chin, while a stylish pair of glasses perched on her nose. She liked baking and reading and watching horrible soap operas, just to make fun of them.

My dad had almost blond hair and blue eyes, and a bit of stubble on his face. My mother refused to let him shave it all off – she said it made him look younger. He was the definition of dad. He liked doing the crossword in the morning and old cars and making ridiculously corny jokes.

Nora and Mark Miller. My parents.

"So… tell me more about this George," my mom said slyly as we fought through the crowds and toward the apparition point.

Maggie looked up, "George? Who's George?"

I groaned, "Mom, really? I was waiting to tell her,"

"Tell me what? What have you been keeping from me? Is George a cat? Is he a person? Who is he?"

I gave my mom a pointed look. She only smiled, "Sorry,"

I could tell she really wasn't sorry. My dad chuckled. I'd written to them about George earlier in the year, so they knew all about him.

"You girls ready?" my dad asked. We nodded, so I handed Agnes to Maggie and gripped my trunk with one hand and my dad's arm in the other. Maggie held on to my mother's arm, and once we'd reached the apparition point, they twisted and I got the sensation of being squeezed through a tight tube, but as quickly as the feeling had come, it disappeared, and then we were standing in front of our Queens home, in the magical neighborhood of Langwood. I smiled up at the brick structure that was my home, before following my parents and Maggie inside.

"Welcome home!" Annie jumped up from the sofa and snapped a party hat onto my head, "We've missed you!"

I laughed when I realized that everyone put on party hats at this point, and with a grin, I sat down on the sofa to regale everyone with some tales of Hogwarts.

It wasn't until much later, when I was alone with Maggie, that she pestered me more about George.

"TELL ME ABOUT GEORGE. NOW." She demanded loudly. I shushed her and closed the door to my bedroom, before collapsing on my bed. Maggie followed me and grabbed my arm, "Please?"

I giggled and rolled over onto my stomach, "Okay, there's this guy," I said. Maggie nodded furiously, "and we've been dating since March."

"Do you have any pictures?" she asked impatiently, "More importantly, does he play Quidditch?"

I laughed again, "yes… and yes."

She squealed, "Ooh, what position?"

"Beater –" I dug around in my bag for some pictures, but Maggie interrupted me by groaning and burying her face in a pillow.

Maggie lifted her head after a moment and rested it in her hand with a sigh, "Beaters have the greatest arms. Does he have nice arms Ivy?"

"Maggie," I said solemnly, "George has _fantastic_ arms."

"Ugh, _arms_," she groaned again. I laughed and finally pulled out a photo of the two of us and handed it to her.

She stared at it for a few minutes and commented dryly, "You'd think the red uniform would clash with the red hair… but it works. It definitely works."

"You don't even understand how much I've missed you," I finally gasped out after bursting into laughter again.

She tackled me with a hug and kissed my cheek exaggeratedly, "I know! It's like I've been on Ivy withdrawal or something!"

I don't know what my face looked like, but Maggie started laughing at it.

"Ivy withdrawal?" I asked with what I guess was a pretty incredulous face, "that makes it sound like I'm a drug or something."

"You are a drug," she pouted, "and I just can't get enough,"

I stuck my tongue out, "That's just gross, Maggie."

"How is it gross? I'm expressing my love for you in a very creative way."

I chose to ignore that last statement and change the subject, "So, how was Clarke while I was abroad?"

She shrugged, "Normal, I guess. We flattened Washington at the last Quidditch match, Shannon and I hung out some, Tony was his usual dreamy self, Colleen was a bitch, Patrick played Quodpot and refused to go to the Vermont-Georgia Quidditch match with me…"

"How is Patrick, by the way? I haven't heard from him at all since –"

"Since Becca's party last summer?" she asked.

I nodded, "Yeah, it was pretty awkward between us for a while,"

"He was asking about you the other day, actually. Wanted to know when you'd get home."

I raised my eyebrows, "Oh, really?"

"Yeah. Wonder why," she commented while picking at a piece of lint on my bedspread, "Quick question,"

"Yeah?"

"Does a certain dark-wizard-defeating boy-who-lived go to Hogwarts, by chance?"

I grinned, "Maybe. Why?"

She shrugged and jumped off my bed to examine the clock on my wall, "No reason. Just wondered."

I had to stifle my laughter. I knew exactly what was coming next, "Well, it just so happens that a certain dark-wizard-defeating boy-who-lived does in fact go to Hogwarts."

Maggie spun around in excitement, "You went to school with Harry Potter?"

I shook my head, "Harry Potter doesn't go to Hogwarts,"

"But –"

I smiled, "I was talking about a different dark-wizard-defeating boy-who-lived,"

Maggie scowled, but it looked weird because she was trying not to laugh at the same time, "You bitch,"

"Honestly Maggie, how many people have you heard of with the title 'the-boy-who-lived'?" I said with a wide grin.

She flipped me the bird, before reaching into her overnight bag and pulling out a onesie. I frowned at her, "What is that supposed to be?"

With a giggle, she put it on and stuck her hands into the oversized pockets of the pajamas, and proceeded to hop around my room, "They're the pajamas my mom got me for Christmas! Do you like them?"

"They're certainly… festive," I offered.

She frowned, "Oh, don't be a party pooper Ivy. Here, I got you a matching pair!" she tossed me the offending garment with a smile.

Oh my god. I held up the onesie and absolutely lost it. It was covered in Christmas trees and presents. Giggling, I slipped it on and joined Maggie in the skipping around my bedroom,

"Okay, I have to admit that this is pretty fun!" I cried, before turning on the radio in the corner of my room and popping in a Beach Boys tape.

We spent the rest of the night – and part of the morning – dancing around in the ridiculous pajamas and talking about our respective years.

The next morning, I was greeted with the smell of something I hadn't eaten in months.

Cinnamon rolls.

I heaved myself out of my bed and shook Maggie's shoulder, "Yea…" she muttered, before snuggling deeper into her pillow.

"Cinnamon rolls!" I said, "I'm going down to eat!"

"Kay…" and then she was snoring again.

I brushed my teeth quickly and ran downstairs, leaping over our cat Frodo who was asleep in the middle of the stairs (I blame my sister and her fascination with the Lord of the Rings for the name. Our _female_ cat is named Frodo) and skidding into the kitchen.

"Good morning!" said my mother cheerily, with her hair pinned back and a gaudy apron on. My dad sipped coffee at the kitchen table, with his Obliviator robes on.

She slid a plate with a huge cinnamon roll on it in front of me, the sugar dripping off of it tantalizingly. Before I could even take a bite of it, Annie pranced into the kitchen, grabbed it off of my plate and took a big bite from it.

As much as I loved Annie, she could be a right pain in the ass. She was only a little taller than me, and with darker, straighter hair, and blue eyes. I think we look alike in every aspect except with different coloring. And she has bigger boobs. Oh my god, her boobs are huge. I frowned as she leaned against the counter.

"Hey!" I protested.

Annie ignored me, "Leah's in town. She's living up in Brooklyn,"

"Really? Is Aunt Jo with her?" I asked.

"No," said Annie, "But she wrote me this morning. You remember that band she was in?"

I furrowed my brow, "Pumpkin Juice, right?"

She shook her head, "It's 'Wizard Prisoner' now,"

Coming up with band names has never been Leah's thing. I laughed and nodded, "What about them?"

"They're playing tonight. You wanna go?"

I grinned, "Let's do it."

* * *

**A/N: CHAPTER 10! **

**I start school this wednesday! oh my gosh! In hindsight, I probably should have been doing my summer reading and not writing this...**

**Oh well. Chapter 11 might not have any Ivy/George interaction. I don't want this fic to only be about their relationship, so I'll be including some more things with Maggie, Annie, a little bit with Leah, and hopefully Ivy's parents. I have quite a bit planned out, but George WILL be in chapter 12.**

**REVIEW!**

**Until next time!**


	11. More Than Just a Dream

**A/N: I don't own Harry Potter. **

* * *

Chapter 11: _More Than Just a Dream_

Ivy

Elizabeth Butler was nothing like her daughter.

She was quiet, and graceful. Her daughter was loud, and sporty, and often hysterical.

She was my father's best friend. They met at work, when he was 20 and she was 18.

She introduced my dad and mom to each other one year later. They introduced her to Annie four years later.

She comforted them when their dog ran away. They comforted her when her husband left.

She brought over lots of pot roasts. They brought over lots of pies.

She was my Aunt Liz. My godmother.

And she was nothing like her daughter. A fact that Maggie obsessed over.

"Everyone says I look like my dad. Everyone says I act like my dad," she cried, "But I don't want to be anything like that bastard! 'Oh, you're just like your father!'" A few tears slipped down her face, "He's never been a father to me! I haven't seen him in _years_, Ivy. Years!"

Maggie'd said that to me three years ago. She never mentioned it again.

"Morning, Maggie," my father greeted her as she trudged down the steps, "Sleep well?"

"Yeah, thanks."

My mom slid a cinnamon roll in front of her, and gave me another one. Annie hopped up onto the counter and continued eating.

"Knock, knock!" came a voice from the living room.

"In here, Liz!" my mother called, "Want a cinnamon roll?"

Maggie's mom made her way into the kitchen and plopped into a seat beside my father, "I ate on my way here,"

My mom sent her a look, Aunt Liz sighed, "Oh all right."

After a moment, my dad spoke up, "Girls, I'm glad you're all here, because I have an announcement I'd like to make,"

Aunt Liz smiled and popped a bite of cinnamon roll into her mouth. My mom shook her head and began loading the dishwasher, Annie and I made eye contact.

"What?" I asked.

"I've managed to get a hold of three tickets to the Quidditch World Cup." He said, holding them up for Annie and me to see. My jaw dropped into a huge smile and I started squealing.

Aunt Liz glanced at Maggie, who looked excited for us, but a bit sad. She cleared her throat and wiped her hands on a napkin, before reaching into her pocket, "Hold these for me?" she asked Maggie, handing her a couple of slips of paper.

Maggie nodded without looking, and turned to me with a smile, "Tell me how it is?"

I rolled my eyes, "Why don't you see it for yourself?"

She frowned, "What do you mean?" she looked at the tickets in her hand and screamed, "WAIT! Mom?!" she looked at her mother, Aunt Liz only smiled.

"Happy late Birthday!"

In her surprise she tipped over in her seat and hugged the tickets to her chest while rolling on the floor, squealing about Viktor Krum. I laughed at her antics, because it looked like we'd all be going to the Quidditch World Cup.

* * *

Leah's apartment was nicer than I thought it would be, although she shared it with two other people.

She ushered us in with a smile, and directed us to a threadbare couch. Clattering coming from the kitchen area stopped immediately as a girl with wildly curly hair stuck her head into the living room.

"You must be Leah's cousins! Want anything to drink?"

Annie shook her head, but I nodded, "Some water would be great, thanks,"

Leah sunk into a violently red beanbag and grinned.

"What do you think?"

I smiled, "It's nice,"

She brushed her fringe out of her eyes, before remembering something, "Oh, look at this," she rolled up her sleeve, revealing a tattoo on her forearm. I got off the sofa and leaned over her arm, which depicted a griffin.

"What did Aunt Jo have to say about that?"

Leah shrugged before rolling her sleeve back down. "She doesn't know."

Annie laughed, "I bet she'd have a heart attack."

I went back over to the couch, accepting the water from the girl as she exited the kitchen.

"Well she's still in New Orleans, so she doesn't have to find out any time soon."

"We should probably leave soon, Leah. The gig's in an hour," called the girl down the hall.

Leah nodded, jumping up, "Annie, Ivy, I need to change. If someone knocks, let them in. It's probably just Jason."

The minute she left the room, someone knocked on the door. Annie got up, letting in a boy that looked distinctly like the curly haired girl, save for his blond hair that was cropped short. He was pretty cute, in that boy-next-door kind of way.

"Sorry I'm late, Lee. Roberts wouldn't negotiate…." He looked up at Annie, "You're not Leah."

Annie shook her head, "Annie. Leah's cousin."

His eyes lit up with understanding, "I'm Jason. The drummer."

They shook hands somewhat awkwardly, before he waved to me and disappeared into the back of the apartment.

Annie sat back down beside me, with a blush burning in her cheeks.

I grinned, "I won't say a thing," I promised her.

Leah rushed back into the living room, freshly changed out of sweats and into a pair of completely destroyed jeans, and an equally as destroyed t-shirt with a skull on it. Her eyes were heavy with dark makeup. She dropped a couple of black cases by the door, then turned to us, "I need shoes. Theo might come in, don't worry about him."

She left us again, throwing her dark, sleek hair into a high ponytail. A boy burst in suddenly, startling me and Annie. I shrieked a little. He grinned and grabbed the cases that Leah'd left by the door. "Sorry," he said with a bit of an accent, running back down the steps. The girl from earlier walked back into the room, carrying a guitar case.

"D'you mind helping me out?" she asked me, I nodded and took an amplifier from her. With her free hand, she pulled out her wand and cast a feather-light charm over it.

"Take that down to Theo, would you?" I nodded and trudged down the stairs, and out into the blinding sun. Theo and one other guy, who I learned was named Miles, were loading up a van with various cases and instruments.

"What instrument do you play?" I asked Miles.

"Rhythm guitar," he muttered.

I nodded, for lack of a thing to do. Theo snorted and tossed a large bass drum into the back of the van.

"Theo! Do you have my pick?" called a voice down the stairs.

"Sorry J, check the cookie jar?" he called back.

"Found it!"

Within minutes, we were all loaded into the van. I was perched on Annie's lap to make room, and then we were off. Theo sat in the front, with his shoulder length hair pulled into a ponytail.

"I never caught your name," said Annie, to the curly haired girl.

"Jenny Jacobs," she said, "but everyone calls me Jen. Or JJ. Or J. Or –"

"I think they get it," said Jason.

Leah rolled her eyes and smiled at us, "Jason and Jen are siblings."

"Twins?" I asked.

"Oh no, he's younger than me. Twerp's only 17." Jenny ruffled his hair lightly. He ducked away from her and shielded his head.

Annie frowned, but I grinned. I knew exactly why she was unhappy; Jason was younger than her by almost three years. It wasn't that big of a difference, but Annie was a bit of a traditionalist.

"How old are the rest of you then?" I asked.

"Theo's is the oldest, he's 21. Jen's 18. Miles and I are 19." answered Leah, she turned to Miles, who called shotgun earlier, "Turn it up, would you?"

The song blasted through the car, Annie and I sang along happily as we maneuvered through the streets of Brooklyn. We pulled up to a dingy looking warehouse blocked off by wire fences, but Leah hopped out and walked right through a section, disappearing from sight.

Annie shrugged and followed her. I made to do the same, but Theo stopped me.

"Grab that amp, would you?"

I sighed and helped the band set up on a small stage as wizards and witches began filtering in. One difference I'd noticed between wizarding UK, and wizarding U.S, was the way people dressed. Wizarding Britain had a lot of quirky people that didn't understand the necessity of blending in. I knew that most of the muggle clothing they tended to wear was hilariously mismatched and ridiculously colored.

The show was absolutely fantastic; I don't remember Leah's band ever being that good, and they were _good._ I doubt a song called 'Sexual Medication' would be well received by a lot of conservative wizarding communities, although it seemed to be popular with the audience.

Finally, Annie and I were back at home, and grateful for it. I smelled gross. Like a five day old funnel cake. I hopped in the shower quickly and cleaned up, before drifting off to sleep.

It was going to be a good summer.

* * *

I shoved my hand into my trunk, digging around for a quill that wasn't broken. It seemed like all the ones around the house were missing. I could use pen, but it doesn't really work on parchment.

With a groan, I came back up empty handed, although the edge of something blue caught my eye.

I pulled it closer and studied the cover. It was the book Dumbledore had given me at the end of the year. I felt a little guilty. I had yet to read the thing, and I was a seer.

Emblazoned in gold across the navy leather, it read,_ Advanced Divination: The Unlearnable Art by Trent Trevington_

An illustration of a woman with an eye on her forehead was underneath the title. I shrugged and tossed it back into the trunk, continuing my search for a usable quill.

* * *

"Ivy!"

I zipped my suitcase closed and carried it down the stairs to where my family was waiting.

"Finally! We're gonna miss the portkey!" cried Annie, before thrusting an envelope in my face.

"What's this?" I asked in confusion, raising my eyebrow at the ridiculous amount of stamps that adorned it.

"It's for you," shrugged Annie, "but you can open it later. We need to leave."

My dad bustled back into the room, "Liz is taking care of Frodo, Agnes, and Bruce. Is someone looking after Mim?"

Annie nodded, "Rhiannon Welch is."

I wrinkled my nose, deciding immediately that I did not like the name Rhiannon. My sister is so weird with naming things. She loved fantasy references. She named her owl Mim, after Madame Mim from The Sword and the Stone. If she had it her way, she'd name her kids Baloo and Aslan.

With a smile, I grabbed a hold of the shoe my dad held out. Not 20 seconds later, a sharp tug seemed to drag my navel forward, and I shut my eyes as tightly as I could. As much as I liked the sensation of flying, swirling colors made me feel sick.

My feet slammed into the ground and I lost my footing, falling flat on my face. Annie and my parents fared much better, landing softly and without trouble, although very wind tousled and disoriented.

"Nora!" came a voice from the sprawling estate in front of us.

"Josephine!" my mother approached a nearly identical woman, and embraced her.

"Is that little Ivy I see? And Annie?" she asked with a smile.

I grinned, "Aunt Jo!"

She pulled us in for tight hugs, and ruffled the tops of our heads, "It's been a while since you've seen New Orleans, hasn't it?"

I nodded, "I'm really excited."

"How's Leah?" she asked.

Annie smiled, "She's well."

"That's good. You two keep an eye on her. I worry," she turned to my dad, "How are you Mark?"

"I've been better," he admitted, rubbing his stomach lightly, "I'm afraid that Portkey trip left me a bit nauseous."

The rest of the day was spent catching up with Aunt Jo and Uncle Warren, who had been working earlier.

My mother and aunt were descended from an old, wealthy pureblood family; one of the first few Wizarding families in the states, the Crawfords. Not that we bought into any of that blood purist shit. It's actually a wonder that the name carried on for so long. My mother, Aunt Jo, Leah, Annie, and I were all anomalies in the male-dominated Crawford family. My great-uncle Thomas did end up having a son, my Uncle Franklin, but he's really arrogant. My mom didn't really like visiting him, or his stuck-up wife, Virginia. I especially didn't want anything to do with Christopher, their bratty son. The guy's only a year older than me, and he thinks he's the shit just because he carries the last name.

The only people I really like on my mom's side of the family are the Ramseys, and my grandmother. My grandfather, Robert Crawford, who died only a year or so after I was born, married a muggle woman named Josephine. Crawfords had always been accepting of muggles, so that didn't really bother anyone in the family. I spend a lot of time with my grandmother. I haven't seen her in a while because she went on a senior's cruise to Florida, where she'll be staying until October, but I'm sure I'll see her next summer.

Since my aunt was older than my mom, she inherited Robert Crawford's mansion, while my mother inherited a nice vacation home out in Georgia.

"You'll be staying in the purple room, Annie," said Aunt Jo, showing her to a gorgeous guest room with its own private bathroom. I grinned at her awe stricken face and waved to her, "and you, Ivy, get the yellow room."

I got really excited at that. Yellow was my favorite color, so staying in a yellow themed room was bound to be fun.

She pushed open the door and led the way in, but I stopped in the doorway and gaped at the room.

"_Holy…_" I mouthed to myself, surveying the room. White crown molding dressed the room, while the walls were painted a very pretty shade of yellow. The hardwood floors of the hallway was interrupted by plush white carpet. A huge bed sat in the center of the room, with filmy white hangings strung from the ceiling surrounding it. The bedspread matched the walls and desk chair to the shade.

She smiled at me and left me to get ready for the evening. I hopped up on the bed and reached into my pocket, pulling out the envelope from earlier. I had a good laugh about the sheer number of stamps, I mean, it was ridiculous.

Ripping open the top, I pulled it out and started to read it with a smile.

_Ivy,_

_You probably won't get this for a week or two. Muggle post is really slow, and this is international too, so I don't expect an answer for a while. _

_My dad's got us tickets to the World Cup! I tried to convince him to invite you along, but we don't have enough tickets. Of course Ron gets to invite along Hermione, I'm sure he would have gotten Harry too, but Harry's going with his godfather. Are you going to the Cup? I know you mentioned that your whole family likes Quidditch._

_The products for the joke shop are coming along smashingly. Fred and I've only just finished up the Ton-Tongue Toffees. We're still looking for someone to test them on. We can't think of anyone that'd be thick enough to fall for it. I've snuck one along as an early birthday present._

I peered into the envelope, and sure enough, there was a fat, brightly wrapped toffee sitting in it. How had I missed that? With a grin, I stuck it into my pocket and continued reading.

_(Just in case you get the urge to prank someone.) Hopefully I'll see you soon,_

_George_

_P.S. Fred says hello._

The desk came equipped with paper and quills, so I sat down and penned a response, setting it aside to send to him later.

With a smile, I dove under the covers of the bed, and fell fast asleep.

* * *

Taking a deep breath, I opened the envelope and pulled out the parchment inside.

ORDINARY WIZARDING LEVEL RESULTS

_Ivy Renee Miller has achieved:_

Arithmancy E

Astronomy E

Care of Magical Creatures A

Charms O

Defense Against the Dark Arts E

Herbology A

History of Magic P

Potions O

Transfiguration O

I read through it five or six times, my heart beat becoming more regular as I breathed a sigh of relief. I handed it to my mom, who smiled at me and hugged me tightly.

"Well done sweetheart! That's eight OWLs!"

I beamed and took the letter up to my bedroom, putting it away with a victorious laugh.

* * *

"Why not?" whined Maggie,

I rolled my eyes, "Because, as much as I love Quidditch, I am not going to play a game with you."

She pouted and leaned against her broomstick. We were in my backyard, the weekend after my family and I returned from New Orleans, trying to think of something to do.

"Your boyfriend plays Quidditch,"

"Well spotted, Maggie, but I'm not my boyfriend."

She groaned and hopped onto her broom, zooming around in lazy circles.

"Hello?" called a voice just outside of the fence,

I grinned, "Gate's open!"

A boy with well-tanned skin strolled into the yard, with a broom slung over his shoulder.

"Look who it is," I said with a smile, "almost a month into my vacation and no word from you? I thought you'd been kidnapped or something."

"Sorry 'bout that, Ives," he said.

I made a gagging noise and fell to the ground dramatically.

He chuckled at me, "I'd almost forgotten how much you hate that nickname."

"Patrick! Get your lazy butt up here and play some Quidditch with me!"

He sighed and mounted his broomstick, flying up to join Maggie. The two of them stared down at me expectantly.

"Not gonna happen." I said, "Absolutely not,"

"Please? For me?" Maggie did a barrel roll and hung upside down. Her face was slowly turning pinker and pinker.

"Maggie, stop it."

"Not until you play,"

Knowing that this would not be a battle that I could win, I relented and picked my Nimbus 980 off the ground, flying up to join Maggie and Patrick in the air.

"I'll see you later, Ivy!" said Maggie two hours later. After a passing the Quaffle around for a bit, it started to rain, so the three of us trouped inside where it was warm and dry. Maggie realizing that her mother was cooking dinner that night, sped off to the fireplace and flooed away, leaving me and Patrick to clean up our half-finished game of Monopoly.

"So," he said, "how was Hogwarts?"

"It was good," I smiled, reaching under the table to grab at a blue game card.

He fell silent, putting all of the fake money where it belonged and folding up the board, before standing up again, "I should leave, I guess," he scratched the back of his neck and looked away from me.

"Are you sure? I can order a pizza or something, we can still hang out,"

He looked unsure, "Um,"

"You don't have to," I said quickly, "I just have nothing to do. We can watch a movie!"

"Alright," he said with a small smile.

"So, pizza?" I asked.

"Pizza," he nodded. I rolled my eyes and grabbed the clunky white phone off the wall, frowning at the coiled cord that was still attached to it.

"We really need to get a cordless one," I muttered, punching in the number for the pizza place and ordering a single pizza.

"What do you want to watch?" I asked him, walking over to the cabinet that housed all of our VHS tapes, "The Breakfast Club?"

He shook his head and joined me by the shelf, "What is 'Pretty in Pink'?"

"Only the greatest movie ever," I said, "Starring Molly Ringwald,"

"Then no,"

"What do you have against Molly Ringwald?"

He shrugged and turned back to the tapes, "Back to the Future?"

"No. The Princess Bride?"

"No. Poltergeist?"

"N-actually, that sounds good. It's raining," I said, grabbing the tape, "So maybe it'll make it spookier,"

"Woooh," he said, waggling his fingers at me like a really lame ghost, or something.

"Can it, Patty,"

The doorbell rang, so I handed him the VHS and went to get the door. I paid for the pizza and brought it over to the coffee table, setting it down and settling back as Patrick pressed play.

He settled down next to me and grabbed a slice of the pizza, as the opening credits rolled.

About halfway through the movie, we had abandoned watching it, because I continued to interrupt with stories about Peeves. The pizza was almost finished, so I grabbed the box and stuck it into the fridge. Patrick followed me into the kitchen and grabbed his broom.

"I really should head out,"

"Alright. It was really nice seeing you,"

He hesitated, "actually I was hoping to ask you something before I left,"

I nodded, prompting him to continue. He seemed at a loss for what to say, so he just grabbed my chin and kissed me full on the mouth.

I pushed him away immediately, "What the hell, man?!"

He looked at the ground. I sighed and ran my hands over my face.

"I'm sorry." he said, "After that party last summer, after we kissed, I stopped talking to you because… I realized that I had feelings for you,"

"I liked you for the longest time," I laughed, "I think I spent years pining over you,"

He turned away from me, "What changed?"

That made me pause.

What had changed?

"I-I fell in love with someone," I said finally, my heart swelling as I realized it.

He rolled his eyes, "You're what, 15? 16? How can you be in love?"

"I just am." I said, "I've liked a lot of boys in the past. Hell, I liked you for almost four years–"

"That long?" he asked sheepishly.

I nodded, then smiled. "It's alright. I got over you last summer. That kiss was just really awkward and not what I was looking for."

"Gee, thanks,"

I hopped up onto the counter and patted his dark hair, "Not that you were a bad kisser," I added, "I can't really explain it. There's really no telling how long I'll be with him. Maybe another month. Maybe another year. Maybe even forever, but that's not the point. Love isn't assigned to one person; you'll love a lot of people in a single lifetime, but when you find her, Patrick, you'll know."

He mulled it over and nodded, "I'm sorry for kissing you. It was uncalled for and–"

Leaning over, I kissed his cheek, "Don't worry about it. It's forgotten. Still friends?"

He grinned, "Still friends."

* * *

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" I woke up with a start and scowled at Annie, who had flung herself across my body.

"What time is it?" I groaned.

"5:30!"

"What?!"

"I'm messing with you, it's only 9." She laughed and hopped off of my bed, "Mom made pancakes,"

That definitely woke me up. Without bothering to change into actual clothing, I raced down the stairs in a pair of sweats and a stained t shirt.

"Mother dear!" I squealed and wrapped my arms around her middle. She chuckled and twisted around to hand me a plate of pancakes.

"Happy 16th Birthday, sweetheart."

"Thank you!" I said, accepting the plate from her and taking a seat at the kitchen table. I drowned my pancakes in maple syrup and bit into them hungrily. Annie came flying down the stairs, out of the kitchen, and into the entrance hall. As I chewed, I heard her groan in disappointment and she stomped back into the room, clutching the mail as well as a small package.

Bruce, my parent's owl, flew through the open window in the kitchen and landed on his perch haughtily, his enormous gray wings flapping dangerously close to my face. That bird has made it perfectly clear that the only people in this house it would deliver mail for were my parents. Hence the need for two additional owls. The rest of the animals in the house tried to stay clear of him (Not that I blamed them. He was a pretty scary bird).

"What's got you in such a fuss?" I asked Annie, who was thumbing through the letters for a third time.

"I ordered something, but it hasn't come in yet." She muttered.

"What did you order?" I asked as she dropped the package and a couple of letters in front of me.

"Some robes out of a catalog." She picked up a magazine and flicked through it with a bored expression. Swallowing my last bite of pancake, I pulled the letters closer to me and tore open the top of one.

"Mom, can we go to Bexley Village soon? I just got my supply list from Hogwarts,"

"How about after breakfast? I do need to pick up some owl treats for Brucie and a new collar for Frodo," she said. I nodded excitedly.

Annie looked up from the magazine, "Can I come?"

"Sure," said my mom.

I opened the rest of the letters, which were just birthday wishes from my friends and family, then turned to the package. Slicing it open, I grinned at the contents.

"Who's that from?" Annie's voice came out muffled because of the pancakes.

"Some friends from Hogwarts," I said, flipping through all of the letters to see who all had written me.

Ingrid, Angelina, Fred, George, Lee… I pulled put a few small parcels and smiled at the lovely notes everyone had sent. Apparently they decided to send all of the gifts together so I'd get them all at once.

Ingrid had gotten me a small compact mirror that complimented you and told you when you had food in your teeth, "There's syrup on your cheek," it said to me very matter-of-factly. I wiped at my face, and lo and behold, syrup. Annie laughed, content to watch me go through all of the presents.

From Angelina I got a rather pretty hair clip from Jamaica, where she had been vacationing earlier in the summer. Lee and Fred got me a large box of Honeyduke's best chocolates. I grinned and set it to the side, promising Annie and my mother that they could try some of it. America didn't have Honeyduke's, so they had no idea of the treat they were in for.

Mrs. Weasley had very thoughtfully included a tin of homemade fudge, which I immediately popped open and sampled, having heard so much about Mrs. Weasley's cooking.

It was as delicious as Fred and George had promised.

Finally, I unwrapped George's gift; a thin, woven bracelet – similar to the ones Maggie and I used to make during summer breaks – made of a sturdy yellow and orange twine. I grinned and slipped on, delighted when it magically shrunk to fit my wrist. My fingers tingled a little after putting it on, but I brushed off the sensation.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" Maggie flung herself into the kitchen, having flooed over like she always did, and dumped a brightly wrapped present onto my lap. She skipped around the kitchen and sang, "Open it!"

I untied the hot pink bow as Maggie sat down next to me with a plate of pancakes.

Inside the box was a photo frame, featuring me and Maggie grinning like the two idiots we are. I smiled and pulled it out of the box, bringing it closer to examine it.

"Was this the day I came back?"

She nodded, "Yes ma'am."

"Maggie, are you doing anything today? The girls and I are going to Bexley Village in a bit, if you'd like to tag along," asked my mother.

Maggie nodded, "Oh, I'd love to come! Would you mind if I went and grabbed my purse?"

My mom nodded, so Maggie rushed into our living room and flooed away. I went upstairs to get dressed, and read over my school list.

One item made me stop short, "Mom?" I called.

"Yes?"

"Would you happen to know why I need dress robes for school?"

There was a pause, "Maybe."

"Could you tell me?"

Another pause, "No." I could hear Annie laughing downstairs.

I groaned and entered my room, throwing on some shorts and a t-shirt, and grabbing a pair of oversized sunglasses.

"I'm ready," I said, entering the kitchen as I adjusted my french braid.

Maggie tumbled into the kitchen gasping for breath, "I'm here!"

We flooed from our house to Bexley Village, which wasn't as crowded as I expected it to be, as it was Saturday.

"It's 10, and your father gets home from work around 1, so we have about 3 hours here." said my mom.

The bad thing about my dad's job was that he only gets one day off a week, instead of two. The Ministry always needs obliviators on hand, so he had Thursdays off.

Bexley Village is a bit like Greenwich Village, except that it's completely concealed from muggles. A large part of the magical community in New York lives there. The only way in is to floo, or enter through the inn on the east side of the district. It was full of wizards and witches alike, walking from one store to the other, minding their own business. The first shop on our right, _Owl Me_, was our first stop. My mom ducked in while Annie and I cooed at the owls on display outside the store. Maggie isn't too fond of birds, so she stood a ways away from us.

Within minutes, we were shopping for my school books at _Obscurus_ _Books_. I'm told that there's a branch in Diagon Alley, although I've never been.

I had picked out all of the books that I needed, except for one, "Excuse me?" I asked one of the employees.

"Yes?" he set down an extravagant quill and turned to me,

"Do you carry _Advanced Arithmancy, Volume 2?_"

He consulted an index book behind the counter, "I'm afraid we don't sell that particular edition in this branch. I could contact the Diagon Alley store and have 'em send us a copy if you like,"

I shook my head, "I'm headed up to London anyway. I'll pick it up myself."

We paid for the books and by 11:30, had finished all of the school shopping I needed to have done. We passed by a small robe shop and I stopped, "Can we see if they've got dress robes in here?"

My mom nodded and led the three of us into the store, _Rosewood and Silk_.

We set ourselves to looking for the perfect robes. Annie and Maggie began loading my arms up with dress after dress after dress. They shoved me into a dressing room, calling out particular ones that they wanted to see, "put the yellow one on first!" "No, no, the pink!" "How about the green one sweetheart?"

I stepped out from behind the curtain in a long blue dress that was far too big on top.

Maggie scrunched up her nose and shook her head, "No. The color's lovely, but no."

I silently agreed with her and stepped back into the dressing room to slip on a yellow dress, which I didn't even bother showing the rest of them. It was too long and pooled all over the floor and just made me look frumpy. With a sigh, I flicked through the other dresses they had all picked out.

At the very back of the stack, a flash of orange caught my eye. It was beautiful; made of chiffon and accented with a bit of silver, including the thin straps. I smiled and slipped it on, reveling in the comfortable fabric that was such an unexpected color.

"Are you guys ready to see this one?"

"Yes!" cried Annie. I could hear her clapping excitedly, so I put my hands through the curtains and parted them dramatically, strutting out like a pompous movie star.

"No pictures, please." I fanned myself with my hand and winked at them.

Annie was nodding frantically, while Maggie grinned like an idiot.

"I love it," said my mother, "I think it's perfect."

I smiled, "I think this is the one."

"Happy Birthday, Ivy."

* * *

_It was dark. Too dark. I felt my breath coming in gasps, my throat closing up in fear as I stumbled around blindly, feeling my way through the forest. "George?" I called, my voice becoming hoarse and cracked from over use, "Maggie?" my foot caught on a rock or a exposed root or something, and I fell to the ground the a grunt, touching my ankle gingerly. Pain shot through it, and I could feel it swelling under my fingers. I bit my lip and huddled on the ground, patting my pocket to make sure that my wand was still there. I gripped the smooth, cool wood tightly, while I heard screaming in the distance, and cackling._

_The clearing in which I sat was suddenly bathed in green light, as there, climbing gradually into the sky, was a sinister looking green skull and snake. The screaming which had started to subside a little picked right back up again, people's terror clearly evident. I started to cry, as per usual, because I had no idea what was going on._

My eyes opened with a start. My alarm clock was blaring, the hands pointed to about 5:30 in the morning. I was shaken by that dream, the whole thing being confusing as hell. I knew that I'd have to experience it at some point, but I shoved the thought out of my mind.

Wiping my cheeks, I shut off the alarm and climbed out of bed, trudging to the bathroom and finishing my ministrations before dressing in some sturdy shorts, sneakers, and a summery tank top. Grabbing my backpack, I headed down the stairs and passed Annie, who was dressed similarly except she was clad in a worn pair of jeans. The two of us joined my father in the kitchen as he read through the paper.

"You girls ready to go?" he asked.

We grinned and nodded, "To the Cup!" we declared.

"To the Cup," he repeated, scribbling a note for my mother and leaving it on the table. She would be working the weekend of the Cup. Our Minister, Kenneth Tanning, was going to be attending the Cup so my mom had to stay to make sure the government didn't stop functioning while he was gone.

We flooed to the American Ministry and met Maggie and Aunt Liz there. Joining the small group that had shown up early for Portkeys, the five of us grabbed onto an old hula hoop, alongside a young couple. Within minutes, we were whisked off in the usual fashion. A jerk like sensation near your belly button, flashing colors, the whole shebang. When we finally landed, I fell straight onto my face again, with Maggie collapsing right on top of me. We groaned, as a voice called out: "14 past 6 from the U.S Ministry,"

I grinned while Maggie rolled off of me and helped me up.

We were finally at the Quidditch World Cup.

* * *

**A/N: This chapter was a lot longer than I meant for it to be... Thank you, everyone for reading and leaving comments! You're all so incredibly sweet!**

**Chapter 12 is on it's way!**

**REVIEW!**


	12. I'll Take Care of You

**A/N: I do not own Harry Potter.**

* * *

Chapter 12: _I'll Take Care of You_

Sirius Black couldn't believe his luck.

Well, Sirius Black never had much luck to begin with, but in some incredible twist of fate, he was free. His name had been completely cleared. Disregarding the fine for being an unregistered animagus, (it had only been 100 galleons), he had gotten off scots-free, and the Ministry of Magic awarded him 500,000 galleons for his wrongful imprisonment.

He was a little disappointed that Pettigrew wouldn't be receiving the Dementor's Kiss, and instead spending a lifetime in Azkaban, however the thought of finally getting to spend time with Harry was enough to move him past it. Especially since he had been awarded full custody of his godson.

He and Remus had made amends, and life was looking up for Sirius. They were on their way to fetch Harry from his aunt and uncle's house. A place he would hopefully never have to return to again, despite Dumbledore's protests.

Sirius wrinkled his nose at the state of the Dursley's neighborhood. All white picket fences and well-groomed lawns. The place lacked originality, he thought. An orange creature slunk by and he eyed it in amusement.

"Moony, is that a kneazle?"

Remus approached the cat-like thing, "It looks like it," he said as it blinked lazily at them.

"Huh," Sirius turned back to the map in his hand, "the house should be right – ah!" he pointed to a house that looked identical to the rest of the homes that lined the pristine street.

"This place is giving me the creeps," muttered Sirius, as he and Remus made their way to number four's door.

Three sharp raps on the sensible black door later and the duo still stood on the stoop. Finally, the door opened to reveal an annoyed looking Harry, wearing clothes that were three – or five – sizes too big.

"Who is it boy?!" a voice floated down the hallway, making Sirius's blood boil. Harry looked up at the two men. Immediately, his entire demeanor shifted.

"Professor Lupin! Sirius!" he cried.

Remus chuckled, "It's just Remus now, Harry. Or Lupin if you prefer."

Harry grinned at them, "What're you two doing here?"

"We're here to take you – "

"BOY!" a very large man waddled into hall, "who the hell are you?" he asked Remus nastily, obviously looking down at the man because of his shabby appearance. Sirius stepped into view.

"Vernon Dursley?"

The man started spluttering at the sight of him. "You're wanted on the news!"

"_Was_ wanted," said Sirius, "but now I'm here to fetch my godson. I've been granted full custody."

Harry's face lit up at that.

"For good?" asked Dursley, not bothering to hide his glee.

Sirius nodded, "Let's fetch your things, Harry,"

Harry nodded eagerly, leading Sirius up to the smallest bedroom.

Meanwhile, Remus was left in the front hall. Dursley eyed him nervously, before tottering back into the living room. Remus heard a woman's voice in a nearby room, and then a bony woman stuck her head into the hallway, paling at the sight of Remus.

"Hello, Petunia. It's been a while," he said pleasantly. She frowned, searching him as if trying to place his face.

"Remus," he said, understanding that she didn't recognize him, "We met at Lily's wedding."

Her face dawned with realization and she stepped further into the hall.

"You're taking him, then?" she asked.

Remus nodded, "We're moving to London,"

She seemed to be struggling with herself, before she strode away from him, slipped up the stairs, and out of sight.

Remus watched her progress up the stairs, before noticing something.

On what appeared to be a cupboard under the stairs, there was an unlocked padlock, and a deadbolt.

Why someone would lock a cupboard with a deadbolt was beyond him, so he crept closer and quickly slid back the bolt and opened the door quickly before Petunia returned and caught him snooping around.

There, etched onto the inside of the door, was 'Harry's Room', in a child's handwriting. Shocked, Remus pulled the metal chain to turn on the light bulb inside the closet. It flickered before dimly lighting up the interior.

The remnants of Harry's early childhood littered the closet. A small cot was folded up and propped against the far wall, and alongside the cleaning materials and umbrellas and boots were deformed little green army men.

Light footsteps pattered down the steps, so he quietly closed the door to the cupboard and re-bolted it. A mixture of hatred and disgust swelled up within him, but he pushed it back down; instead, turning to face Petunia, who had an uncertain look fixed upon her bony face. She might have looked pretty in another life; one without so much hatred ingrained within her. Remus noticed that she was clutching several battered envelopes in her hands.

Quietly, she said, "Give these to him someday. I know he'll deserve them far more than I ever will."

She handed him the thickest envelope and then held onto the final one, "This was meant for his seventeenth birthday," she murmured quietly, "guard it," she thrust it into his hands without another word and scurried back into the kitchen.

Remus studied the thinner envelope, recognizing the hand writing on the front. It was one he hadn't seen in almost 15 years.

Lily's handwriting.

The second envelope was large and yellow, a catalog envelope with frayed corners and a metal seal. Pushing the envelope from Lily into one pocket, he flipped open the yellow flap and glanced inside, realizing that it was filled to the brim with photographs.

He heard stamping coming from upstairs, so he shut the envelope and tucked it into one of his magically enlarged pockets.

Sirius and Harry appeared at the top of the stairs, chatting about some pointless topic, and carrying Harry's things – a broom, an owl cage, and a trunk. Remus met the two at the door.

"We'll be right here, Harry," said Remus, "do whatever you need to,"

Harry nodded, and disappeared into the kitchen, before walking into the living area and waving awkwardly at his uncle and a pudgy blond boy that neither Remus nor Sirius had noticed earlier, which was strange, as the boy was about the size of a baby whale. Harry finally walked out into the entrance hall and opened up the little cupboard under the stairs. Sirius sent a questioning look to Remus, who merely waved him off and watched Harry look around the cupboard slowly, before reaching in a single hand and pulling something small and green and pushing it into his pocket.

He turned to Remus and Sirius with a smile, "Let's go."

* * *

_Ivy_

After being directed to the first field by a man wearing thigh high rain boots, we came across Mr. Roberts.

"You're foreign, are you?" he said, waiting patiently as my father and Aunt Liz counted out the pounds, "I've been getting a lot of foreigners today. Some kind of rally I suppose."

My father nodded vaguely and handed the man a five, followed by Aunt Liz. Mr. Roberts pocketed the money, "Aye, that's not to say I'm not grateful for all the bookings, but this is the most crowded it's been in years."

He opened the gate and let us through, handing us two maps, "You lot've got spaces up that way, near the tap. Prime spot," he added, before closing it behind us and returning to his little cottage.

My dad led us through the field, passing hundreds of tents before we made it to two small signs hammered into the ground, nearby each other. One read MILLER while the other said BUTTLUR.

Maggie snorted when she read it, "Oh, dear god. What if that were actually my last name?"

Aunt Liz smiled softly and pointed her wand at the sign, changing it to the correct spelling, while my dad pulled the two tents out of his bag. With a quick glance around to be sure no Muggles happened to be watching, he flicked his wand at them. They sprung out of their little bags, the spokes sticking firmly into the ground. Maggie eagerly ran into one, "This is so cool!" Her voice echoed outside.

"You've been camping before, Maggie." I lifted the flap to her tent and grinned at her. She lay lounged across a loveseat in the center of the cheery tent.

"You know how I feel about undetectable extension charms," she sighed.

I laughed and ducked back out, entering my family's tent and glancing around. It had been years since we had all gone camping, so the tent smelled a little musty from disuse, but looked clean nonetheless. There were two bunk beds in one room. The whole tent was big enough for a family of about four, and came complete with a washroom and kitchenette. My father went to lie down for a bit before the match, and Annie settled down to read a new book she had picked up from a shop in Bexley Village.

"Ivy, could you make me some coffee?" she yawned. I groaned and got up from the arm chair I had just made myself comfortable in.

"We haven't got any water," I called out as I looked into the coffee pot.

"Well then go get some,"

I knew that I owed Annie for a favor from earlier this summer, so I resigned myself to do it, setting down the pot and grabbing the bucket labelled 'Water' from beside the sink. I left my tent and popped into Maggie's, finding her rummaging around in her backpack for something.

"What're you looking for?" I asked her.

"My wand," she muttered, opening another pocket and reaching around in it.

"Maggie,"

"Hmm?"

"It's right here," I said with a grin, picking it up off the loveseat and twirling it between my fingers.

She jumped up and grabbed it, shoving it into her pocket and looking at the bucket in my hand.

"Off to that tap thing?"

I nodded, "Want to come? Maybe we'll see some of my Hogwarts friends."

She lit up at that and nodded like a maniac, grabbing a small coin purse, leading the way out of her tent, and consulting the map for directions.

"It's not that even close!" she cried, "It's all the way up there!" she pointed in the direction we would be headed and sighed.

I grinned at her and headed toward the tap, passing a multitude of tents adorned in green.

"Who're you supporting, then?" I asked her.

"Bulgaria, of course!" she cried, "Viktor Krum is just…" she made spread her fingers wide and placed them on either side of her face, her eyes going completely wide.

With a giggle, I purchased a little red rosette for her from an early vendor, which she pinned to the lapel of her jacket. I bought a green one and stuck it to the strap of my tank top, and we continued toward the tap, passing lots of students that I recognized, but didn't know by name.

"Oliver!" I cried suddenly, catching sight of the recent Hogwarts graduate.

"'Lo Ivy," he grinned, "Didn't expect to see you at the Cup!"

"I like Quidditch!" I defended myself, "S'not my fault we can't all be star keepers,"

His laugh rang a little, "Did you know I've been signed to the Puddlemere reserve team?"

"Oh, that's exciting!" I said, before turning to Maggie, "Oliver was the captain of the Gryffindor team,"

She smiled lightly at him, "I play Quidditch too. Captain of the team over at Clarke, though I hear the teams at Hogwarts are much better,"

"What position do you play?" he asked her.

"Chaser," she said, "I'm Maggie by the way."

"Maggie," he said, grinning at her, "Well then, Maggie, it was a pleasure meeting you. I'll see you, Ivy."

We watched him walk a ways away, and enter a tent similar to the one we had. I raised my eyebrows at Maggie, whose expression had become a bit glazed.

Snapping in front of her face, I called out, "Maggie?"

"Hmm?" she shifted her eyes to me slowly.

"You alright?"

She nodded and we continued to follow the map's directions toward the tap. Once we'd reached it, there was only a short line ahead of us. Getting into the queue, we giggled a little at the clothing that everyone was wearing. Especially at one old man that was refusing to wear pants.

"I like a healthy breeze 'round my privates, thanks."

One girl was so overcome with giggles that she actually had to step out of the line for a bit. Immediately, I recognized the bushy head of hair.

"Hermione!" I called out. She turned around, looking for whoever had called her name, her face still red from laughter.

"Oh, hullo Ivy! George mentioned that you'd be at the Cup."

I nodded and grinned, "You're staying with the Weasleys, yeah?"

"Yeah, Ron and Harry are up there in the queue," she jerked her thumb behind her.

"D'you mind if we follow you back? I know Maggie here is just dying to meet George."

Maggie rolled her eyes at me, "That's not the only reason. You just want to see George again."

I could feel my face flush. Hermione giggled and nodded, "Just wait for us after you've gotten your water and we'll take you,"

She returned to her spot a few paces behind us, and finally we were at the front of the line and we filled up the bucket quickly, now moving much more slowly because of the added weight of the water.

Standing off to the side, we watched the trio make it up to the tap and start to fill up their bucket, when Maggie turned to me, "Earlier, when that girl said Harry, she didn't mean -"

"You two ready?" asked Harry, wiping the back of his hand across his forehead to get rid of the sweat that started to condense there, moving his shaggy fringe out of the way and revealing the thin lightning shaped scar.

I could practically feel Maggie tense up beside me, her eyes going wide.

Harry eyed her oddly, "Are you alright?"

She nodded and Harry shrugged, heaving along the bucket with Ron, while Hermione walked next to them.

"Hold on," I called out to the trio once we'd reached our tents, "Let me drop this bucket off,"

They waited patiently while I set the bucket down inside. "Annie?" I called out. She emerged from the little kitchen area.

"Yeah?"

"You want to meet George?"

She grinned, "Do I!"

Following me outside, she waved politely to the trio and we set off again, Harry and Ron and Hermione pausing to greet some of their other friends, including Oliver Wood, who grinned at us as he led Harry to meet his parents. Annie and I watched amusedly as Harry slopped some water onto his front after a rather pretty girl waved to him, and then finally we arrived at the Weasleys' tent.

"You've been ages," I heard George comment dryly from the other side of the tent. I elbowed Maggie with a smile, who mouthed silently to me, '_That's him?' _

I nodded as we rounded the corner, just as Ron was saying, "Met a few people,"

Harry and Hermione grinned at George as he looked up at the sound of us approaching.

"Ivy!" leaping up, he accidently dropped the wood he'd gathered.

The trio moved on to help Mr. Weasley light a fire while I helped George gather the wood he'd dropped.

"You startled me" he said sheepishly, "didn't think you'd be staying in field one."

"Can't get rid of me that easily," I teased, poking his should accusingly.

He chuckled and helped me up once we'd gathered all of the sticks and things.

"_Ivy,"_ hissed Maggie from behind me.

"Oh!" I said, "Right, George," I stepped over to give him a clearer view of Maggie and Annie, not that he was having trouble seeing over my head, and gestured to them.

"This is Margaret, and this is Annie,"

Maggie scowled at me and punched my shoulder. I gripped it in mock hurt while she stuck her tongue out at me.

"It's just Maggie," she said, sticking out her hand. George shook it and grinned at the fact that Maggie was only about an inch shorter than him.

They had finally managed to light the fire, so we helped the Weasleys start cooking up some lunch, when the rest of the Weasleys finally turned up.

I thought that George and Fred were tall, but it was easy to see now that I was mistaken. While George and Fred were tall, they weren't as tall as Bill, or even Ron now that he'd gone through a growth spurt of some kind. Bill must have been 6'5 at least, but where they lacked in height - in comparison to the rest of their family – they made up for in width. The twins and Charlie were easily the fittest of all of the Weasleys. Charlie was only a little shorter than the twins, but he was covered in rippling muscles and burns. Percy was about as lanky as Mr. Weasley and Bill, but not as tall.

Maggie seemed to be having the time of her life, and was chatting up Harry and Ron about the Cup in excitement. Annie, on the other hand, was eying Charlie appreciatively.

"Annie, no." I muttered. She pouted but went over to talk to him anyways. That girl has a one-track mind, I swear. With a sigh. I turned to George and Fred who were wolfing down their food.

"Who's that?" I asked, looking at the man in obnoxious Quidditch robes who'd come to say hello to Mr. Weasley.

"I think it's Ludo Bagman," said George with a grin, exchanging a glance with Fred.

"Everyone," Mr. Weasley continued, "this is Ludo Bagman, you know who he is, it's thanks to him we've got such good tickets -"

"Fancy a flutter on the match, Arthur?" he said eagerly, jingling his pockets which looked like they were heavy with gold, "I've already got Roddy Pontner betting me Bulgaria will score first - I offered him nice odds, considering Ireland's front three are the strongest I've seen in years - and little Agatha Timms has put up half shares in her eel farm on a weeklong match."

"Oh ... go on then," said Mr. Weasley. "Let's see ... a Galleon on Ireland to win?"

"A Galleon?" Ludo Bagman looked slightly disappointed, but grinned nonetheless. "Very well, very well ... any other takers?"

"They're a bit young to be gambling," said Mr. Weasley. "Molly wouldn't like -"

"We'll bet thirty-seven Galleons, fifteen Sickles, three Knuts," said Fred as he and George quickly pulled all their money out of their pockets, "that Ireland wins - but Viktor Krum gets the Snitch. Oh and we'll throw in a fake wand."

Maggie sidled up to me and whispered, "What's happening?"

I shushed her, leaning forward in my seat to watch everyone speaking.

"You don't want to go showing Mr. Bagman rubbish like that," Percy hissed, but Bagman didn't seem to think the wand was rubbish at all. In fact, his ruddy face shone with excitement as he took it from Fred, and when the wand squawked loudly and turned into a rubber chicken, Bagman roared with laughter.

"Excellent! I haven't seen one that convincing in years! I'd pay five Galleons for that!"

Percy was frozen in shock and disapproval.

The conversation turned to some man, named Barty Crouch, who seemed to excite Percy just a little too much.

"Barty Crouch keeps saying that," said Bagman, his round eyes widening innocently, "but we really can't spare anyone at the moment. Oh - talk of the devil! Barty!"

A stiff looking wizard had just Apparated at their fireside, and he was a stark contrast to Bagman. Crouch looked like someone had taken an extremely long stick and shoved it up his ass a very, very, very long time ago. The elderly man was all angles and straight lines; from the part in his hair to his neat little mustache, he had dressed so well to the rule about muggle clothing, he looked like he could have fit in at a bank or within a cubicle. It was pretty easy to see why Percy was almost drooling at the mere mention of the guy.

"Pull up a bit of grass, Bar," said Ludo with an award worthy smile, patting the ground beside him.

"No thank you, Ludo," said Crouch.

Maggie pressed her lips together in amusement at the older men, and accepted a cup of tea from Charlie, who was handing a few out. Holding a cup of my own, I watched her take a sip, her eyes fixed on the two men conversing, before grimacing at the taste of the drink and setting it down. I had to bite my knuckles to keep from laughing at her.

"Mr. Crouch!" said Percy breathlessly, his eyes shining with excitement, "Would you like a cup of tea?"

"Oh," said Mr. Crouch, looking over at Percy in mild surprise. "Yes - thank you, Weatherby."

Fred and George almost spit out all of their tea, . I'm surprised they could stay as composed as they did. I nearly spit tea all over the back of Ron's head, but I managed to swallow the mouthful of tea and hold it together. Percy, very pink around the ears, busied himself with the kettle.

I noticed Bagman taking a sip of something from a flask that was hidden under his clothing. Raising my eyebrows, I elected to ignore it. No one else seemed to have noticed him drinking from it. Who was I to call out the man for trying to loosen up a little? God knows he needs it more than anyone.

Within a few minutes, Bagman and Crouch left and continued along the thoroughfare leading into the woods, but not without hinting at some event that was taking place at Hogwarts.

"What's happening at Hogwarts, Dad?" said Fred at once. "What were they talking about?"

"You'll find out soon enough," said Mr. Weasley, smiling.

"It's classified information, until such time as the Ministry decides to release it," said Percy with a sniff, "Mr. Crouch was quite right not to disclose it."

"Oh shut up, Weatherby," said Fred.

"Do you think that's what we needed dress robes for?" I asked, taking a seat beside the two of them, "This event thing?"

"Dress robes?" asked Fred.

"It was in the supply list for school. I got it on my birthday,"

"They usually don't get sent out before the end of July. Never the middle." Said George.

"I must've gotten mine a bit early, then," I said.

"Afternoon!" a voice boomed out, as he ran into the Weasley's little camp area holding boxes and boxes of things. Bill and Charlie grinned at him, while Fred and George high fived and whooped.

Percy looked like he was about to piss himself.

I furrowed my brow as I tried to place the man, whose voice sounded so familiar, but whose face was obscured by dark hair and boxes.

"Who –" I started, but then he set the boxes down and I realized who it was.

"Sirius Black!" squealed Maggie in terror. I groaned.

"Maggie. His name was cleared, remember? He's innocent."

Her face burned bright red. "Oh. Right. Sorry about that,"

Everyone was absolutely dying with laughter, Fred and George most of all, were bent over and clutching their stomachs.

Harry and Sirius's tent was nearby the Weasley's, about two rows over, but Harry had been helping the Weasleys set up camp while Sirius was off doing god knows what.

"So you're living with Sirius now?" I asked Harry with a smile.

"Him and Remus. We've got a flat in London, nearby Diagon Alley."

That surprised me, "Professor Lupin?"

"They were old school friends." Harry explained, "It's a pretty long story actually," he said, scratching the back of his neck.

"Ah, okay." I said waving my hand. Annie came over to me with a grin.

"I'm going to go with Charlie up the field. Says he's got some friends from the dragon reserve," she offered as explanation.

"Kay," I said, sitting back down with Fred and George.

"Hullo!" that same booming voice came from behind me, startling me quite badly.

Fred and George turned red in the face from their laughter. I scowled and crossed my arms across my body defensively.

Sirius popped up and sat in between me and George, shoving us apart in the process.

"Who might you be?" he asked, flipping his shoulder length hair out of his face.

"Ivy," I said, fighting to keep the grin off my face.

"American," he commented, "How did you meet this lot, then?"

"Exchange program," I said, while Sirius scoffed.

"No, really, how did you all meet?"

Fred and I glanced at each other.

"Mate, it was actually an Exchange Program." said George.

He looked around at all of us strangely, "Okay," he said, "I believe you. It's just a bit odd, don't you think? Dumbledore springs up an Exchange Program out of nowhere?"

I shrugged, "I just applied and then got in. It wasn't that big of a deal."

We fell silent for a moment, before he looked up and grinned at a passing Ministry employee.

"Nymphy!" He waved exuberantly at a woman with mousy brown hair, who whipped around and glared at Sirius.

"If you ever call me _Nymphy_ again," She spat, her hair turning redder and redder all of a sudden, "I will not hesitate to kick your arse," The twins and I gaped at her when her hair returned to the brown color it had been before.

"This is my cousin Dora." He told us.

She strode over to him and glanced at her wrist, "I haven't got much time to chat," she told him, "Scrimgeour'll have my head if I stop patrolling,"

"Are you an Auror?" I asked her.

She nodded with a wide grin, "Auror-in-Training if we're being technical,"

"How did you do the thing with the…" Fred gestured to his hair, and she smiled.

"I'm a metamorphmagus," she said, demonstrating this by transforming her hair to be pink and spiky, "I've got to look muggle, though. Keep up appearances." her hair reverted to the brown color it had been before.

Suddenly, I recognized her from that dream I'd had.

"Say," she said suddenly, scratching the back of her neck, "Remus didn't happen to come with you, did he?"

"Sorry, Tonks," grinned Sirius, "He was feeling a bit under the weather. Didn't think he could manage the trip."

She nodded and waved to us, before continuing her patrol down the thoroughfare that led out of the woods and through the campsite. She stumbled a little when her foot caught on a little rock, but righted herself immediately.

Sirius turned back to the three of us and shook his head in exasperation, "That girl."

* * *

**A/N: Thank you for the extremely lovely reviews I got last chapter! This is only part one of the Quidditch World Cup. The rest of it should be included in Chapter 13.**

**As always, please let me know what you think by leaving a review!**

**Until next time!**


	13. Hello

**Hey everyone! First I just want to say thank you to everyone that's left such lovely messages and reviews.**

** Thank you so much to everyone who's shown such kind support.** **It's been a while, I know, but I'm cooking up something big and working on a rewrite for Wonder. I know that Wonder was a rewrite of another story, but I'm really unhappy with the way it's progressed and all. All of the same components are still there, but I'm trying to keep the flow of everything natural. **

**This is just a PSA that Wonder will not be updated anymore. Sorry to anyone who's been waiting for an update, but I already have the first 3 chapters of the rewrite finished and I'm keeping it clean and easy to follow. I've added a few new characters and details, and I can't wait for you all to see it! **

**If you have any questions for me about the ongoing rewrite, please feel free to pm me, or leave a review on Wonder about what you think.**

**Lot's of love, and keep your eyes peeled for the upcoming story.**

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